


1685 Blightblossom Lane

by Eldritch_Grandma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Don't copy to another site, F/F, F/M, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Multi, Nonhumans, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Teratophilia, Webseries, serial fiction, web fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-01-12 14:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 175,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18448595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch_Grandma/pseuds/Eldritch_Grandma
Summary: 'Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that there's a city. This city is huge, expansive -- we're talking almost the size of a country in of itself -- and in this city there's amazing architecture, the economy is stable, there's more than enough food to go around without anyone starving. But, oh yeah! Your neighbor might be a FREAKING DRAGON and your kids go to school with kobolds and fairies! THAT, my friend, is Dama Fristad: the city of man and monsters!'Whether its the complex lives of nonhumans trying to live or of humans trying to make sense of their place in the world of chaos and mystical natures, the stories from Dama Fristad, the haven of both man and beast, are varied, salacious, humorous, alarming, and sometimes a bit heartwarming.... And then there's Zach Bruys: the owner of the 1685 Blightblossom Lane condo and the landlord to nine nonhumans of varying social-aptitude.





	1. Our Lady of Acceptance: Dama Fristad

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for clicking on this little story of mine. Really appreciate it! This is 1685 Blightblossom Lane: a story of teratophilia and the overrated-ness of the human condition. 
> 
> It's a web-serial that I've been working on-again/off-again since 2017 and, due to issues with my last hosting site, I decided to move it here! So, please, grab a blanket, some cocoa or tea, and get nice and cozy with the mothman or harpy in your life. 
> 
> And let's go on a bit of a journey...

 

***

Wake up.

Brush teeth.

Shower. Don't shower. Wait, no. Shower this time.

Deodorant.

Comb your hair, you piece of shit.

Get dressed, pull on shoes.

Breakfast, breakfast, break... Leftover spaghetti? No, it's started to rot in the fridge, it's been so long.

Didn't you have a slice or two of spinach and bacon... Pizza! Yes!

… You're probably going to regret this later, but for now, your stomach is full and you can go on with your morning routine.

***

Zach Bruys bent down and did a quick retying of his boot laces before walking to the main room of his home.

1685 Blightblossom Lane. The address belonged to the condo Zach stood in. It was such a large space that the city decided to give the singular condo it's own moniker separate from the building it resided in.

Zach sighed, pulling his fingers through deep brown hair as he performed a mental checklist of what needed to be done before he left to do errands.

“Let's see,” The 22-year-old said, his voice a warm neutral that lifted up on certain syllables, “Rooms 3 and 7 need their carpets deep-cleaned. Room 4's bathroom needs a new toilet paper holder. Shit, and the window in Room 1 was busted a few days ago...”

He folded his arms and marched to the supply closet in the main hallway. He snatched up his favorite toolbelt, grabbed a canister of cleaning wipes and sponges, as well as a bottle of all-purpose cleaner.

He was going to have to make more than one trip, probably ten and over before he was done. But this would be a good place to start.

***

“Dear Mom and Dad,” He spoke out to Room 1 as he hefted up the new glass to the window pane, “I'm still taking care of the condo. Not like I can do much else with the two of you still gone. But, hey.”

He fastened the glass into place and plucked a cleaning wipe from the canister next to his feet. “It gives me something to do in the mornings.”

Wipe.

The smears remained; egged on by the residue on the glass that the warehouse employees had done fuck all in the means of cleaning up.

“Damn it...” Zach groaned, taking a new wipe and going at it harder.

***

“Mrs. Kusnetstov from the second floor keeps insisting that I should sell the place,” Zach shouted out over the choking whir of the carpet-cleaner. He shoved and yanked it over the pink shag carpeting in Room 7. “I guess she means well, but where the hell would I even go?” Which, really, was the thick and sad of it. A young man who was unequally Yokut and Japanese (he hated how his hair would never choose between stereotypically smooth or stereotypically thick and wild). He was gawked at whenever he went to the local Little Tokyo and he was pitied when he visited the Yokut settlement. So, really, what was the point of leaving?

“I mean,” He turned off the carpet-cleaner, “What if I did leave and you guys came back to an empty house, huh? What then?”

The words rolled through the room and crashed into a silent death in the hallway.

***

“The city's even been hounding me for the space.” Zach marked the part of the off-white bathroom wall where he needed to drill. He abhorred the thought of fucking this up again. He already had to patch up the remains of the last time he tried to fix one of the other towel racks.

Zach hefted up the power drill and rummaged through the bits that he had. “'You're holding up progress', they say. 'Think of what you could do with the money', they say. 'Why are you being such a stubborn little shit', they say.”

Zach fed the drill into the wall just enough so that, when he hefted up the first handle of the toilet paper holder, he would have a notch to put the corresponding nail.

***

“They say that I'm selfish keeping all this space to myself.”

Zach pulled a rag damp with polish over the doorknob of Room 5. He moved it back and forth until, when he removed the rag, the knob was sparkling like the sun's reflection in the harbor.

Zach looked around the condo. He removed the bandana from his hair with a low breath. “It's not like I'm forcing people away from renting some of these rooms out.”

_''Cause she's a Maneater_

_Make you work hard!_

_Make-'"_

Zach ripped his phone out from his pocket and hit 'Accept'; not even glancing down at the caller-ID. “Talk to me.”

“Where  _are_  you?” A woman's voice snapped out on the other line, “You know that the LlamaYama Cronutwich food truck calls it a day at 1:37! PM! To. The. Second!”

Zach shied away from the screeching voice and looked at the clock on his phone. Indeed, it was already 1:15. “Shit!”

He tore off the tool-belt, the gloves, and almost ripped off his boots before he realized how futile that would be.

He grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter and bolted towards the door.

His boots screeched against the hallway's hardwood floors when he forced himself to stop his momentum.

Zach walked over to the mirror he had hanging there and brushed back his hair, just to have it fall back into place. “Whatever.” He walked to the front door and took a step out.

Not before turning back, examining the state of the condo, and snapping a quick picture of the space with his phone.

***

Nestled by a fresh-smelling bay and surrounded by gigantic steel bridges, Dama Fristad was known all over the country as 'the harbinger of new beginnings'. The population was primarily younger (recent college graduates, idealists, and entrepreneurs), majority employed, and wholly of the favor of looking towards the morrow and never the past.

Were there unsavory elements to this bay-side burg? Of course; we're talking about a city of living, breathing creatures here. Someone's bound to get stabbed, mugged, raped, or –

But the point is that it didn't happen as much as it did in other cities. Everyone was far too busy trying to build up lives they could look upon with pride and pass on to their loved ones.

“One Honey-Whip on Vanilla Wafer!” A burly, hair-covered man popped his upper-half out of the side window of a brown and white food truck decorated in llamas wearing chef hats.

“That's me.” Zach walked up and waved his receipt before anyone else could try and steal his order like that one asshole from two weeks ago who--

The truck owner handed him the warm delicate, flaky layers of a croissant and donut love-child split in two with a large scoop of fresh ice-cream in the middle.

With his food in hand, Zach walked back to the stone bench where the young woman who damn-near screamed his head off on the phone sat.

“So,” Faaria took a bite of her own order as Zach sat down, “Any takers on your condo?”

“No...” Zach was about to take a bite but he went on, “I've been updating the listing on every rental site every other day for the past eight months.”

Faaria adjusted her bright blue hijab to try and avoid staining it in her haste to finish eating. “I still can not believe you've gone this long without any tenants.”

“Like it's my fault?” Zach brought out his phone and opened up the latest site that had any rental inquiries. “Look at this. I put it as clear as night and day: '1 bedroom, 1 bath, kitchen-access, prime central location. $878/month as well as a share of utilities'. Do you know what I was sent last night?”

“No, but I am sure you are going to tell me.”

Zach swiped his phone screen and read out, “'Do you really need 878 tho??? I can't see paying that much for one room...'” Zach shoved his phone into his pocket. “If it wasn't what I was asking for, why the hell would I have posted the ad?”

Faaria shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to haggle you down.”

“I'm renting rooms.” Zach quipped back, “Not selling fruit in the back alley of Calcutta.”

The truck owner slammed his fist against the side of the vehicle. “Alright, last call!” He looked around, scanning through the crowds. “Come on, I know one of ya wants--”

In the corner of his eye, he could see a small hand bandaged hand waving a five dollar bill near the window. He looked down, a smile growing on his face. “Well, hello little lady.” He leaned out of the truck as much as he could to address the little bundle of ancient bandages. “What can I get for ya today?”

“Vanilla on cinnamon!” The little mummy beamed, her mouth missing several teeth but her eyes just as bright as most human children her age.

“Vanilla on cinnamon, huh?” The truck-owner chuckled as he went to prepare the order. A fresh cinnamon donut, a scoop of creamy sweet vanilla... “Here you go.” He waited until the mummy had a good hold on her order. He nodded, “Tell your moms I said hello.”

The mummy nodded and rushed off. She was going to get this right back to her parents and they were going to go to the park to share it!

The little mummy ran past Zach and Faaria just as Zach said, “Maybe I should claim that the condo is haunted so I can get some tourist revenue.”

The little mummy kicked up her feet when she saw an older mummy and the off-colored flesh of a zombie near the water fountain.

“I –  _WAH!_ ” Her tiny feet tripped over the brick of the path and as she was sent to the floor, her icy sweet treat meeting the floor with a splat. She caught herself upon her hands but the moment she looked and saw the dismal fate of her ice cream, her wrapped-up face squeezed tight into a grimace. Her tears and whines rang out through the park, finally prompting the zombie and mummy couple to shuffle over.

“Oh no...” The older mummy cooed, gingerly lifting her child into her wrapped arms, “You have to be more careful, dear.”

The zombie turned towards the departing food truck. “Damn... it...” She rasped out. Despite the limited vocabulary her and her kind had control over, the words held all of her frustrations at the fact that the LlamaYama was  _G-O-N-E_  for the day.

Zach was listening to his friend talk about how there had to be something he wasn't trying. However, his ears were far more taken by the crying of a child robbed of a simple joy.

“Hello~?” Faaria waved her hand in Zach's face. His gaze had been wandering and his attentions were blatantly elsewhere. Zach silently got up, cronut sandwich in tow, and walked over to where the zombie and mummy were failing to calm their daughter down.

Faaria pouted at the retreating back of her friend. She wasn't just talking for her own benefit. However, as she watched Zach hand over his own cronut-sandwich to the little mummy and depart with a wave and a ruffle of the child's ribbon, a quiet little 'aw...' left her lips. And with her heart feeling fuzzy from the display, her brain was blooming with a new idea to help Zach out. She wanted to be able to go home without worrying about him being alone in that giant empty condo.

“Guess my track-record of going without LlamaYama's is still safe.” Zach tried to joke it off but, despite doing a good deed, he was still slightly disappointed that he had run all this way just to end up missing out again. Zach looked and saw Faaria grinning up at him. “What?” He looked down to his feet. Up to his knees, to his shirt. There was nothing amiss. “What's got you grinning like that?”

Faara finished her food and clapped her hands together. “We're going to get your rooms filled by the end of the week!” Faaria hopped up to her feet and grabbed Zach by the wrist.

“Wait, your hands are sticky.”

“Shut up and let's go!”

***

Zach often wondered if someone like him should have been so familiar with the inner workings and sinew of City Hall. But Faaria had a thing for dragging him to work with her to see what a real job was like. So he knew to wave to the guardian lion statues in the main hall of the older building. Both statues nodded their greetings to him before resuming their stone-faced duties. The sound of great wings flapping caused Zach and Faaria to duck just as the graceful form of the mayoral [caladrius](https://thevictorvoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/calAdrius-311x475.jpg) whisked by: her great wings reflecting the light of the room as brilliant spectrums.

She departed and they were soon off again. They reached an elevator and Faaria produced a key-card from her pocket and swiped it through the reader on the wall.

“I should have said something before,” Zach spoke as they stepped into the elevator that soon lowered down, “But what are we doing here again?”

Faaria waggled a finger in his face. “Good things to those who wait.”

“Last time you said that,” Zach shoved his hands into his pockets, his foot tapping as he waited for their stop, “I didn't have water in my condo for a month.”

Faaria folded her arms and sent a pout and a cut of the eyes Zach's way. “You still aren't letting that go, are you?”

“I had to go to the Chinese restaurant around the corner just to take a bath, Faaria.”

A chime floated down and the elevator doors opened. “Hey, wait.” Zach looked up, left, and around. The intimate warmth of red velveteen wallpaper and embroidered flooring seeped into his perception: it condensed his senses, letting him smell the crackling fireplace two rooms away.

“This is the floor of the city Housing Committee.” Faaria kept walking and Zach even found himself, “Come on, keep up! We're here for you, not me.”

Zach grumbled something under his breath along the lines of 'around the corner for a bath, Faaria...' but allowed the tug of his friend to pull him.

She skidded to a stop in front of a simple, unassuming room with a glass door. “Faaria, for the love of God,” Zach glared down at her, “If you try to tell me that there's wine in here.”

“Quiet down, Fortunato,” Faaria opened the door and led the way in. It was a tight fit for Zach so he didn't even know how the hell Faaria was walking through with her, ahem, larger presence.

Shelves upon shelves, crafted from steel but blanketed with verdant moss, reached to the ceiling. Zach stopped to take a look at one of the many, many treasures this storage room held.

They were perfectly round, perfectly smooth, while they held the fluidity of water and the color of the world around them.

Zach's words fell lifeless to the ground as he approached one of the orbs. He hefted it up into his hands, a soft warmth spreading out from his fingertips and resting into his bones.

He smelled... vanilla. And sugar.

“It's an  _Enviea_.” Faaria explained, “They're what allow non-humans and humans to live in the same space.”

Zach had to pull himself away from the welcoming aura that the Enviea seemed to flood over his entire being. “What do you mean?”

Faaria leaned against a shelf. “Well, think about it: a dragon, a mermaid, and two humans couldn't live together in the same house without gutting it or something, right?” She looked up at the collection of Envieas in the chamber. “They... affect space and matter. I don't completely know how they work, but all the businesses and rentals and things in town all have one.”

That was it. Zach understood now.

“How much?” He asked, his eyes looking back at the Enviea in his hands. He knew that something like this couldn't possibly come for cheap. But, just maybe...

If, you know...

It would help him rent out those rooms...

Faaria stood up straight. “Right to business, hm? Let's see...” She hummed and swayed, “The typical price is around, oh, 150,000--”

“What?” Zach dropped the Enviea back onto its cushion like it was made of fire. “Faaria, what the hell? I can't afford this; why the hell did you bring me down here?”

Faaria stepped back. “Come on, I had a feeling... But maybe we can find a used one around here for you to buy at, I don't know, half off?”

Zach scoffed and Faaria pouted at him once more. “At least I'm trying to help, you big grumpy baby!”

“Faaria.” Zach sighed for a second. “Most of your 'help' results in me begging for a quick and merciless death.”

“Now, now, you two...”

“There's no need to argue in a place like this.”

Zach whipped his head to the left. “Mayor Hebeus!” Then to the right. “Mayor Heart!”

Mayor Heart was an older woman, dressed in a baby-blue skirt-suit and matching heels. Her black hair had some streaks of gray in the up-do she had, but her brown skin showed no sign of her age.

Mayor Hebeus stood upon four powerful legs, the hoof of each leg swaddled in billowy feather hairs. He had started to bald a bit, but his gray goatee was as thick as any rugged lumberjack's. His torso was draped in a suit jacket, the tails falling over his lower half and splitting in two just as his swishing tail came into the picture.

Faaria smirked and folded her arms. “Told you.”

But Mayor Heart allowed her painted lips to curl up in a skeptic's grin.

“And I thought that  _I_  told  _you_  that I need you to file the rest of the petition templates for the leprechaun banking school?”

Faaria flinched back like she had been burned. “Well, you know...” She tugged at her sleeves, “I just wanted to... Help my  _best_  friend out with his rental situation?” Faaria ended her piece with a chuckle.

Mayor Hebeus looked to Zach. “Still no decent applications, huh?”

Zach sighed and started to leave the Enviea chamber. He should have known better than to let Faaria drag him into any more bullshit but he was getting desperate.

***

He walked through the halls of City Hall, dipping out of the way of an embittered [Cwn Annwn](https://66.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ltlmuemeF21qbz35lo1_500.jpg) trying to make their way to the law department. Zach followed the hall, took a left, and let the quivering carpet underneath his feet carry him back to the reception area.

Now then: if he could just find that one bench that he always seemed to be in a three-way power-struggle with two non-humans for any time he was stranded here. Zach squinted his eyes to get a good look. His vision was obscured by the lumbering mass of opaque sludge that was being escorted through the building. When they were finally gone, Zach carefully stepped over the slime trail left behind and found, to his relief, that the simple wooden bench was empty. “Now to wait.” He whispered, leaning his back against the wall once seated.

He felt submerged: cloaked in the sounds of growls and hisses, of ancient languages mingling with human tongues. Zach took a deep breath, soaking it in. He finally opened his eyes and let them fall onto the one major ornament of Dama Fristad City Hall. Oh, the building was well-furnished and decorated, but the shining jewel of the city was the velveteen dress of deep plum encased in a glass tomb. It stood in the center of City Hall for all to see... And for some to strive for.

Zach heard Mayor Hebeus approaching before the centaur spoke. Hoofbeats traveled further than footsteps.

“Still haven't found a princess for this dress, huh?”

Mayor Hebeus shook his head. “Unfortunately the search for someone pure enough of heart and kind enough of mind is looking to be too much of a reach. But,”

Zach found his attention taken away from the dress beneath the glass when the centaur next to him began rummaging through his pockets. Zach managed to keep his mouth shut for all of three minutes before he asked, “So, I've been wondering--”

“No, I'm not going to start wearing pants just to have better pocket options.” Mayor Hebeus switched to his other coat pocket: mumbling something about 'nosy young people' and 'how would that even work, anyhow?' It took him another minute. “Ah.” Mayor Hebeus pulled out what he had been looking for: the familiar warm scent of vanilla and sugar whispering to Zach's senses. Zach turned as Mayor Hebeus eased an Enviea into his hands. “Sir, wait—”

“You know just as much, if not more, than I,” Mayor Hebeus insisted, “That those rooms have been empty for far too long. Go on, boy,” Mayor Hebeus nickered, one of his hind-legs tapping at the linoleum floor, “Take it.”

Zach looked down at the clear orb and then back up at Mayor Hebeus. He couldn't accept this, really... Though he was certain that if he didn't, he would get a pun about looking a gift horse in the mouth by Faaria later on.

…

Yeah, he would honestly rather die than hear that. “Thank you, sir.” When Mayor Hebeus handed him a handkerchief to wrap the Enviea in, Zach took it without question.

This could actually work.

Now Zach just needed a way home that wasn't Faaria or public transport. “Mayor Hebeus,” He looked up, “Do you think that maybe I could hitch a ride home?”

“Don't push your luck, boy.” Mayor Hebeus gave Zach a simple punch to the shoulder; tail swishing angrily behind him.


	2. The Great Convergence - Part the First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tenants of 1685 Blightblossom Lane start rolling in! 
> 
> Some more... literally than others.

* * *

 

 

Zach slowly sat up in bed. He pressed his hair back with his fingers and hopped out of his mattress's alluring hold.

“You have to get up sometime, you miserable fuck.” He whispered to himself before pulling himself out and walking to the shower.

***

Zach walked around his condo for the fifth time that morning. He was getting a bit... not anxious, but he was confused. His condo looked the same. Did Mayor Hebeus give him a busted Enviea? Even with Faaria texting him in the middle of the night, reassuring him that the changes would be more apparent when he finally got some tenants, Zach was uneasy.

“Just throwing it all to the wind here...” Zach stopped his pacing to push the candy dish on the coffee table. It was just.

A little.

Off-center. An impassive face often hid deeper passions and agitations. When he felt as though the main room looked okay, Zach grabbed several pieces of chocolate from the dish and walked to the door.

***

“Shit!” Zach grabbed his knee, gritting his teeth at the pain from the sudden impact against his leg. “What the hell was that?” He looked around before finally taking note of the large chest that stood in the hallway. It was your typical grade-A treasure chest: black lacquered wood gilded with gold. It nearly pulled Zach closer to it; something inside of it...  _calling_  to him.

He shook his head. He didn't have time for this, he had to talk to his doorfairies.

If you lived in a nice enough place and could hang a basket of living flowers upon your door, you could end up with doorfairies. And it wasn't a bad thing, either: if a family of doorfairies moves in, making their home in the breathing blooms upon your door, you could expect fortune, tranquility, and safety.

Zach stepped close to the basket of blightblossoms upon his door, the violet blooms and thorns shuddering with his approach.

“Hello?” He spoke, and waited.

“Hello?” Zach spoke, and looked at the time on his phone.

“... I have chocolate.” Zach stated.

“Good morning, Zachary~!” Three teeny-tiny heads topped with fuzzy antennae popped out of the blightblossoms: a chubby father, a slim mother, and a little daughter.

“Is that for us?” The doorfairy mother asked, already snatching away the chocolate that Zach had brought. The doorfairy father leaned his fuzzy body against Zach's finger and schmoozed, “Boy, let me tell you Zach: you are a dream! Sleeping and screwing all day and amazing food! All without having to lift a wing!”

“Maybe some of us should look into lifting their wings more often.”

A flutter of wings found Zach's ear as a fourth doorfairy flew over to Zach's hand. “Hey, Zach.” He called up to the human.

Zach nodded at the doorfairy with the rich, blue fuzz: a stark comparison to the others' rose. “Hey, Periwinkle.”

Periwinkle fluttered up and landed on Zach's shoulder. He put his chin in his hands and pouted, black eyes pleading, “Please tell me you've found a reason for this door to open more often. I'm dying here!”

“Damn it, Periwinkle!” The doorfairy father growled out at his son, “Haven't you ever heard of 'not looking a gift Pegasus in the mouth', you little ingrate?!”

“It's not being ungrateful when you just want to do what you're born to do, you fat fuck!” Periwinkle yelled at his father.

Zach didn't even try to get in the middle of this fantasy family feud. He waited for the motions to rise: Periwinkle's father trying to fly up to get at his son but failing due to his weight, Periwinkle cutting the air with more of his complaints (complaints that were, really, justified), and then Periwinkle's mother and little sister coming into the fluttering fray to dog-pile on the indignant doorfairy.

The thing was, though, that Zach didn't have the time for this. “Guys. Guys?” He snapped his fingers, the sound-wave rolling over the doorfairies and quelling the squabble. For the moment. “Great, good; you can listen up now.” Zach cleared his throat, “I'm actually expecting some potential tenants today. So, can you guys maybe... Go back to working?”

 _“WHAT?!”_  Periwinkle's family squeaked in horror. But Periwinkle shot up into the air and did a complete loop.

“Praise be to  _Trillium the Fair_!” Periwinkle zipped over to Zach and gave him a high-five to the finger. “I've been waiting for this day!”

Zach opted to take his leave and wait for the first of the applicants. Though, that left the matter of the chest. “No one else lives on this floor.” He stepped closer and tapped the chest with his foot.

Nothing.

Zach rubbed the back of his head. “God damn it.”

***

Zach panted and wheezed, sweat beginning to bead upon his brow. He had just managed to carry the chest into the main room and, damn it, the thing must have weighed as much as a morgue's worth of dead bodies.

Zach took several steps. He was desperate to find a place where the chest wouldn't be an eyesore.

“Visitor!” The doorfairy father announced, his tiny voice vibrating through the door via the blightblossoms.

“Oh, fuck this.” He let the chest drop to the ground. “I'll just call the postal company about it later.” Zach jogged over to the door. He brushed down his shirt and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “Okay. Okay, here we go.” Zach reached out for the doorknob –

He was shoved into the wall when a hoof kicked the door inward with a resounding crack.

“What the  _shit_?” Zach yelped, trying to ignore the bruise forming on his stomach from the doorknob. Zach squeezed his way out from behind the door. “Can I help you?”

He didn't get an answer aside from two literal jackasses walking in.

The two donkeys, one brown and one white, walked in on their hind-legs. Dressed in black suits with shimmering blooms in their breast pockets.

“Vicinity clear?” The brown donkey gruffed out, adjusting the earpiece he had in his right ear.

“Vicinity clear.” The white donkey nodded. He knocked his hoof on the door and the both of them rushed to stand, at attention, on either side.

Soon Zach heard hoof-beats from the hall. They were gentler than the ones that had knocked his door in: falling to the floor like the winter's first snow.

When he first saw them, there were the crystal hooves that cleared away dust and debris and dust as they kissed the ground. His coat was pristine and white, a few silver speckles on his hindquarters.

The hair of his luxurious mane and tail floated and shifted around him. The silken strands twisted between bright silver and deep blue as sparkles, like stars in the Milky Way, swam through. Deep eyes; stormy, blue eyes framed by thick, white lashes. The equine beast looked around the apartment, careful to not pierce anything with the spiraling horn jutting from his forehead. Zach stood up straight and asked, once more, “Can I help you?”

The unicorn nodded, main and tail shifting, “Allow me to make an introduction. I,” He readjusted himself to bear his weight on three legs, lifting a hoof to his chest, “Am the first son of the reigning King Alabastras and Queen Fuschiabolt Winterdust: Prince Silveste Winterdust.”

The two donkeys closed the door, allowing Silveste to step closer to Zach. “I am here to inquire about the open status of your dormitory selections.”

Zach looked at the unicorn for a long while. “I beg pardon?”

Silveste chuckled. His eyes sparkled when he spoke, “I would like to rent one of your rooms.”

“Oh, right.” Zach got up and led the way further in. “The kitchen is large enough for several beings to cook and entertain without bumping into each other.”

It was odd to fall back into 'open-house' mode after his condo had been empty for so long. But it was the fact that someone was actually there, not pulling or hiding behind passive-aggressive fake inquiries...

Silveste looked around. He gave a quick nod. “Might I see the chamber in which I could retire and gather clarity for the next morn?”

Zach looked Silveste up and down. “Listen, I'm going to need you to ease up on that before you drive me crazy.”

“Right, of course.” Silveste cleared his throat. “I'd like to see the rooms now.”

***

Zach opened up the door to room three, the first two being denied due to not 'having the right aura', whatever that meant. “Step on in, have a look around.” Zach let the equine entourage inside. Speaking of which... “So, I got your name,” Zach hung tight near the door, “But your friends here elude me.”

“Oh, Blancher and Bruner?” Silveste gave a nod towards the two donkeys. “They're my bodyguards. They've been with me since before I was born; I don't know what I'd do without them.”

Blancher and Bruner didn't say anything.

'Tough crowd.' Zach thought.

“...y, this room will do.”

Zach nearly missed the way that Blancher bowed to one knee, Bruner walking close to Silveste with a briefcase weaved of ivy and sweet-grass. It opened with a click and Silveste grabbed a wand out of it with his mouth.

A wand. A purple-polished handle topped with a snowflake crystal embedded in the center of a silver ring.

Before Zach could say anything, the wand was already shining brilliantly in Silveste's grip. The flash that started off as a mist exploded into a flood that engulfed the entire space.

Zach shielded his eyes and didn't lower his arms until he heard the sound of bubbling waters. He gasped, looking around to see that what had been Room 3 not even a few minutes ago was now a piece of pristine forest. A soft breeze blew through the boughs of grand oak and maple trees that nearly obscured the view of a shimmering violet sky. The grasses and plants beneath their feet held an ethereal glow.

“Much better.”

Zach turned to see Silveste, Blancher, and Bruner examining the mystic space. “Do you two think I should send home for my bedroom set or should I order a new one?”

Blancher and Bruner gave each other a quiet look. “You two are right.” Silveste nodded, walking to a soft flat of flowers and sweet-smelling leaves. “I'll put in the order tomorrow. Bruner, can you give our kind landlord the deposit so he can be on his way. I'm sure that we've taken up far too much of his time.”

“What did you do?” Zach muttered in awe. Magic was a common occurrence in Dama Fristad, but you usually had to travel to the Shimmer Gale District to have it specifically done for you.

Zach watched Bruner walk over with a checkbook in hoof. But he had questions. “Unicorn magic?”

“Diluted, of course,” Silveste replied around the wand until Blancher came to put it back in its briefcase. “The idea of using pure unicorn magic is absurd.”

Zach took the check from Bruner and shrugged. “Guess I'll leave you guys to get settled. Welcome home.”

***

Zach stepped out of the condo for a second to check if anyone had gotten lost (though, he was the only residence on his floor). He could hear simple bickering from the blightblossom and the doorfairies within. Zach knew that Periwinkle was beyond hyped with the development, but the rest of the family –

_“Such tortures never existed back on Azathoth...”_

Zach turned to the western end of the hall that was punctuated with a staircase. Periwinkle peeked his head out of the blightblossoms before flying over and hovering by Zach's ear. “Is it another tenant? Zach, is it? This is so great!”

The humming of the doorfairy's wings was deftly ignored. There was something about the voice from the hall's end: the way that it wriggled and rolled through the air.

A squelch.

A squish.

A slide.

A writhing mass of slime and tentacles pulled its shuddering form up the stairs. It looked around with three black eyes, magenta forked pupils contracting and expanding.

“Shit.” Zach backed up at the sight of the tentacles. “Are you still a target for hentai-trope bullshit if you're only half Japanese?”

The writhing mass turned at the sound of Zach's voice.  _“Oh!”_  It pulled itself to Zach, its height reaching up to Zach's groin.  _“We are sorry about our appearance! We weren't expecting your, erm, your...”_  The gelatinous creature let out a crackling trill, three eyes squinting up,  _“What is_ _human_ _word for--”_  The tentacle-blob made noises that blended vowels with clicks for several seconds.

Zach turned to Periwinkle. “Don't suppose you speak Eldritch-ese?”

“Sorry,” Periwinkle shrugged and floated back to the blightblossoms, “I only took a semester of Harpisian back in Secondary.”

“Great...” Zach turned back to the bleb at his feet, wide eyes looking up at him. He followed the trail of translucent slime that the tentacle-blob had dragged from – “The stairs?”

The tentacle-blob gasped, the sounds not coming from a mouth but wisping about in Zach's mind.  _“'Stairs'!”_

Zach watched as the creature reached into its slick, slimy body and pulled out a clean notebook and pen. In handwriting that was perfect portions scratch and script, it wrote out a series of symbols and then the word 'stairs' next to them.

The tentacle-blob examined its notes with a nod. It tossed the notepad up above itself and its body tore open into a ravenous maw. Wriggling tendrils and spiny teeth swallowed down the notepad, with spine-shattering squalls filling the hallway. It pulled itself back together and smiled with its eyes.

_“Can we rent one of your rooms, please?”_

Zach, still shell-shocked, eased the front door open.

***

The tentacle-bleb handed Zach a thick manila folder full of photos, dusty pages, and paperclips.

Zach opened the folder up to an ink-drawing of the very tentacled horror in front of him. And the words... It was written in a humaneness script, but pronouncing it was a feat. “'Ne'...” Zach twisted his lips and tongue around the combinations of the letters on the page, “'Phobos'?”

Nephubos nodded.  _“Yes! You said it correctly!_ _Usually_ _, we have to spend so much time going over it!”_

Zach flipped through a few more stained pages and weathered pamphlets. He clapped the folder shut and set it down on the coffee table. “So, what's an Eldritch Abomination like you doing in a place like this?”

Nephubos's dark slimy body swamped over to a pale pink swath of hair. The dark slimy state returned, as did that voice.  _“We have been given great opportunity! A full scholarship to Dama Fristad Academia to study Human Culture and Relationship Dynamics!”_

“DFA, huh?” Zach folded his arms and watched the bleb crawl around the main room and touch everything with its tentacles at least twice.

 _“Yes, yes! We are so very overjoyed to have been chosen to study a subject of such vast interest and variances! But...”_  

Those three wide eyes swam through Nephubos's gelatinous body to look up at Zach.  _“We are in need of shelter while we learn. And we happened upon your listing while using the primitive human technology called a...”_  Zach cringed when Nephubos reached into themselves and pulled out that same notepad from before. They sped through several pages, eyes squinting at the right one.  _“Laa-p-_ _tooop_ _!”_

Zach turned away just as the ungodly shrieks and baying began, signaling that Nephubos had put the notebook back inside. The noises finally subsided and Zach found it in himself to look down again. Nephubos's minute movements managed to make their body jiggle and their tentacles wiggle. It warmed Zach's heart a bit.

“Let me show you to a room that you might like.” Zach led the way down the nearest hall. Room 6 would be a good fit.

***

Zach slammed the door to Room 6 open, a series of claws, tentacles, and bubbling slime speckled with agitated eyes reaching out for him. He shut the door, shoving himself up against it in an attempt to keep the hellish din inside.

'Decorating', is what Nephubos had called it.

“Visitor!” The doorfairies chimed out before there was a scratching at the door. Zach could have sworn that he heard some growing agitation in the voices from some of the small beings.

Maybe he was imagining things.

He walked to the door and sidled up close to look through the keyhole.

The sight that welcomed him was... relatively normal. A pretty face and a pointed chin. Topaz eyes with plenty of surrounding eyeliner with a smörgåsbord of thick dark tresses around their smiling visage. “Hello?” Zach could hear the stranger call out. “Are you home in there?”

Zach pulled back and shrugged. After being crushed by his own door and still wiping his hands free of some otherworldly slime, Zach could use some normalcy.

Zach opened the door.

Zach was forced up against the wall by a warm behemoth of sandy brown.

“Hi!” Said the creature, whose body was that of a lion: heavy paws, lustrous mane, and large ears. His face, despite holding the same shade as his fur, was more human-esque. Well, as human-esque as you can imagine when a creature fills the entire walkway and front area of a condo. “Is this the place?” The sphinx asked, making a circle and smothering Zach beneath more of his fur and bulk. “It's so pretty! And in such a good location!”

'I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!' Zach screamed in his head. He certainly couldn't have done so with his mouth. Not unless he wanted to make an impromptu hairball.

The sphinx stopped circling and sniffed around. He sat on his haunches and reached to his side, pulling Zach free from his fur. Zach swallowed down air as soon as his mouth and nose were free. “If I wasn't gay already,” He wheezed, “That would have put me off of pussy entirely.”

The sphinx didn't seem to hear him. “You have such a nice home!” He beamed down at Zach and Zach could get a better look at the topaz eyes that bore slits pupils. He followed the whorls of liner around the sphinx's eye that formed an Eye of Ra.

“My name's Gahiji.” The sphinx introduced himself after he let Zach go. “And I'd like to rent one of your rooms!”

Zach looked the sphinx from the golden headband around his head down to the manicured claws on his paws. He couldn't even get away with saying something like 'oh, sorry but I don't think any of our rooms will fit ya, buddy'. Fucking Enviea...

“Okay..?” Zach tried (and failed) to smile back but he was snatched up and rushed over to the nearest window.

“This is great! This is so great!” Gahiji clapped his paws together and opened the window. “Almighty Morning Star~?” He called out, “I've finally found a place! Come see!” That was it. Zach was officially of the mindset that this sphinx was crazy; shouting into the air like he was.

Then the air got hotter.

Not like fire. More like the change one feels when driving from a beach to a desert. Zach looked up and the sun was lowering down. Closer, closer, closer still. To rest near the building. If Zach wasn't still so close to what had to be 13,000 pounds of clingy lion mixed with God only knew what, he would have panicked.

He was still uneasy but when the sun began to shift and form into something new, he simply stood still.

The Sun god Ra's avian face appeared in the flaring orb or plasma and fire. Ra looked around for a second before gaining focus. “Gahiji.” He addressed, his words sending zephyrs of heat over the building. “Are you sure that this is where you would want to live? We could try that nice bungalow off the 91 again.”

Zach opened his mouth. Gahiji covered his face with a heavy paw. “Oh no, almighty Illuminator. I want to live here. This place is perfect!” He grabbed Zach and jumped to the left, the apartment shaking. “It's nice!” To the right, sending a glass toppling from the counter. “And roomy.” To the left again. “And it's right in the center of everything!”

Zach was going to puke.

Gahiji hopped backwards: one paw before the next, chattering away until Ra chuckled,

“My dear knowledge-keeper, I have heard your concerns. And your praises. You, boy.”

Gahiji carefully set Zach back on the floor. Zach waited for the salty bile in the back of his throat to settle back down before looking up.

“Boy,” Ra addressed the human in the room, “The child next to you is very precious to me and mine. I understand how the presence of creatures like him and beings such as myself may be overwhelming, but I order you --”

“Make sure that he doesn't get into the medicine cabinet by himself, got it.” Zach interrupted. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he really needed to finish this and get some fucking ginger into his stomach pronto. Ra blinked down at them. He cleared his throat and shook his head, “Right. Okay. How much of a deposit are you asking for?”

***

“And this,” Zach said, leading Gahiji into one of the available rooms, “Is one of my larger layout rooms. Well, besides the basement. Hey, do you want to live in the basement?”

Gahiji tilted his head. “How does a condo have a basement?”

Zach shrugged, “I don't know, after today I'm just giving everything the King Crimson approach.”

Gahiji took that as a window to look around. “I probably wouldn't want it, though. Being surrounded by gloom and doom? I can't possibly imagine subjecting myself to that when it's such a wonderful day!” Gahiji looked around and made a circle around the room before nodding. “Yes, this will do it!”

“Great.” Zach folded his arms, “You can call whoever you need to help you move in and – you're going to pull some mystic bullshit and completely ignore me, aren't y--”

A flurry of brightly colored feathers flew into the room. They spun and spun, faster and faster until they took the form of a woman dressed in a gown of ibis feathers. A crown of gold and ebony feathers rested upon her head.

“Ma'at!” Gahiji bounced over and crushed one of Zach's feet on his way to the goddess of justice and harmony. She merely laughed as he got close enough for her to scratch behind his ears. “Such an excitable creature, as always.” When Gahiji pulled away, Ma'at looked around. “A reasonable amount of space... Yes, yes I think I'll be able to do something worthwhile with it.”

“Good,” Zach grunted and dragged his screaming foot out of the room. “I'll leave you two to whatever plans you have.”

Gahiji waved a paw at Zach's retreating form. “Thanks again!” He chimed out.

The door slammed shut. 


	3. The Great Convergence - Part the Second

* * *

 

 

The fridge door squeaked as it was pulled back, Zach poking his head in. Oh, the beers standing guard by the leftover Chow Mein seemed tempting... But, it just wasn't a good time to, well, have a good time.

“Still,” He shut the fridge and leaned against the door, “Three out of nine rooms rented already. I guess the Enviea is doing its job.”

Though he really could do without another mouthful of hair or nightmare fuel anytime soon.

***

_**“Much too lively.”** _

“Nowhere near enough black and blue.”

_**“Too close to the sky but not nearly close enough to the ground.”** _

Zach kept silent. The group that was looking through his apartment then was composed of the resident Lich of the Necriona District in town, the (emphasize the 'THE') Grim Reaper, and a young combination of the two. He had to be their son, Zach realized, looking at the figure in the cloak leaning against the wall.

The ghastly face of the Lich glanced over at Zach. Zach had to avert his eyes when he felt his body grow heavy at the sight of the icy blue lights the lich called eyes.

“Are you sure that this is the place?” The lich asked the younger figure.

He nodded in silence. The Grim Reaper, however, wasn't too enthused.

_**“This is nonsense,”**_  Her voice reverberated through the condo,  _ **“We will go back to Necronia and put this nonsense of you 'moving out' out of your head and beyond our troubles.”**_

Well, it wasn't like Zach had the wherewithal to force these three to fall in love with what he had to offer. He just wished that they would get this over with so that he could prepare for another walkthrough.

The younger hidden figure lifted his head. He tilted it to the side: listening.

“What's that?” The lich asked, taking a listen. “Hm...” It was a raucous sound: crashing, roaring. It would take one's breath away if it could be heard by more than those who could no longer speak.

“It's louder here.”

The first sound of the younger figure's voice made Zach's bones jumped out of his skin. He had been quiet this whole damn time and now he decided to open his mouth? Fucking kids these days...

The Grim Reaper lifted a bony finger to her teeth, dark eye-sockets thoughtful.  _ **“I see. Fine.”**_  She nodded to the Lich in the room.

He held up his hands in time for a grisly pen and a checkbook made of aged skin to appear in front of him. Sritching, scratching. “Here you are.”

“Wait,” Said Zach as the check was forced into his hands, “What did you guys hear? Actually, wait!! This is more than first and deposit!”

_**“Let us be on our way.”**_  The Grim Reaper announced, ignoring the human in the room and leading the shadowy trail of her cloak behind her. She stopped, not to let her husband join her but to address the younger figure.  _ **“Fane.”**_

Zach watched the figure, Fane, lift their head: a lone seafoam light shining out from the darkness of the cloak.  _ **“I will be in touch.”**_  Said the Grim Reaper,  _ **“Your father and I will be expecting progress.”**_

And that was that. She disappeared in a haze of mist and, in a blink of blue, the Lich was gone as well.

Zach looked down at the check, grimacing as it began to wriggle before going limp. “Hey,” He looked over at Fane. “Your mother's not going to get mad and cut my life down by thirty years if I deposit this as is. Is she?”

And then it was like night and day. Gone was the quiet stander-by, now Zach was greeted with Fane presumably rolling his eyes and scoffing. “She gave you extra to feed me. God, you're embarrassing.”

“Wait, what?” Zach walked to Fane, the phantom interloper standing shorter than him. “What's your damage all of a sudden?”

Fane turned away. “There's a basement here, right?”

Zach scrunched up his face. Fuck this little shit if he thought he was going to get an answ – “Hey!”

“You're too busy being stupid over there.” Fane said, his cloak dragging on the floor as he found the stairs that descended into the abyss. “I already found it.”

Zach opened his mouth.

Then decided 'Fuck it'.

And merely waved Fane off to do whatever.

The last bit of the phantom's cloak disappeared into the darkness before Zach scratched the back of his head. “What a shitty attitude. Probably gets it from his mother...”

***

“Oh..!”

Scaley claws surged forth to grab at another scaley body, bringing it close to a silk-covered chest. Zach sat on the couch across from a family of three nagas. And they weren't the fantasy-porn variants of 'human torso fuzed with snake bottom' either. 

No, no; these were scaley from tip to tail. The mother of the micro-nuclear family was built more like an elegant cobra compared to her death adder-esque husband and her python-esque offspring. “My baby...” The mother kissed her son's cheeks, her forked tongue flicking out over the same spots. “I still remember back when I laid your egg. It feels like yesterday and now you're leaving the nest!”

“He'sss a twenty-four year-old, Charlotte!!” The father hissed, “Quit smothering him, for God's sake!”

“Raleigh!” Charlotte hissed at her husband. She immediately regained her sweet composure, turning to Zach, “You have to understand: my little Silas has been at home in the nest all his life. And when he up and started talking about 'culinary school'-this, and 'moving out on his own'-that! It darn-near gave me a heart-attack!”

“He'sss a grown ssserpent, Charlotte...” Silas's father hissed under his breath, Charlotte holding Silas tight and baring her fangs at her husband.

“Raleigh..!” She caught herself again, resting a clawed hand upon her cheek, “You'll excuse us for just a moment.” Zach said nothing as the cobra naga dragged her death-adder naga mate off to the balcony. The door slid open, two bodies slithered out, and then the door slid to a close.

But, even with the barrier of glass, one could just make out the furious hissing-match going on outside.

Zach looked to the naga still on the couch. His shy posture didn't necessarily match his large size (at least half a head taller than Zach). His scales shifted whenever he moved: melting from sandy brown to a ripe green. They also changed shape: round, to square, to diamond.

His eyes gave Zach a questioning look and, for a minute, Zach wondered if he had missed something.

Wait.

Silas's hands. The motions that the naga performed were nonsense to Zach's brain until, out of the blue:

'...she's always been like this, I guess. My dad doesn't make things any better.'

Silas was mute. And, thank God for the Enviea because Zach new for damn certain that he didn't recognize the gestures on his own.

“Crap,” Zach said, “I've been ignoring you this whole time, haven't I?”

'It's alright.' Silas signed, 'At least you weren't doing it on purpose.' The naga shrugged his shoulders. 'Like my dad.'

“Maybe if you didn't coddle him ssso much, he would be talking like a normal naga, Charlotte!!”

“HE CAN COMMUNICATE JUST FINE, RALEIGH! MAYBE IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A STUBBORN ASS--!”

Zach and Silas shared a glance. “Normal for you?”

'Every. Single. Day.' Silas looked down at the coffee table, his claws still moving, 'It's why I finally decided to move out. I actually got into Keebalah Culinary Tech. The crème de la crème of confectionary and culinary education for nonhuman kind. I love my parents, but I can't breathe with them around.'

Zach noticed that Silas's parents were still arguing on the balcony. He stood to his feet and pointed down the opposite hall. “Let's get you a room.”

Silas smiled, his forked tongue flicking past his lips. 'I'd like that.' Silas slithered after Zach and took another sniff of the air. 'It's already becoming a bit of a full-house, isn't it?'

Zach thought about that. “I guess so. But, so far, everyone's been pretty cool about it: mostly going straight to getting their rooms the way that they want them.”

Silas nodded. 'I'll probably have to go back to my parents' nest to get my textbooks and baking supplies.'

Zach felt a bit relieved. No more sudden magic bullshit or flipping through Lovecraft's wet-dreams. “Well--”

The door was forced open faster than Periwinkle could announce it: a pile of loaded suitcases was hurled through the air, smacking into Zach and sending him into the nearest wall.

Silas immediately slithered over and began digging through the luggage. He hissed as it felt like there were lead weights crammed in every corner of every case.

He didn't have long to work. Heavy hooves clopped against the floor, a low voice barking out, “What it do, pencil-dicks?!”

Silas flinched and turned around to see a minotaur looking down at him. The minotaur tossed his remaining backpack onto the floor and scratched at his stomach through his tight-fitting shirt. “Hey, scalie, you seen a human around here anywhere?”

'Yeah! Under your mountain of crap!' Silas signed furiously, eyes narrowed and tongue lashing out.

The minotaur snorted out and stepped over Silas's tail so he could grab his largest suitcase. Zach popped out when the weight was removed and gave the minotaur the grimmest frown he could manage. “Can. I. Help. You?”

The minotaur jabbed a thumb against his thick chest, “The name's Odysseus and I'm taking one of your rooms!”

With Silas's help, Zach climbed out of his weighted tomb and stood up in front of the monumental minotaur: from filthy hooves, to his recently trimmed mohawk. “And, why, should I rent to you and not wait for someone to come along who hasn't crushed me under an airport's worth of luggage?”

Odysseus threw his head back and bellowed out a huge laugh. “Ha, you're funny! Look, my credit-score is fucking flawless and,” He dug into his pockets, “Here, take it.”

Zach frowned even further as he was hit in the face with a check bound to a couple of monetary notes. It had Zach wondering if a good portion of non-humans just had excess money laying around in spades for shit like this.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Odysseus snorted out, “Going to go pick out a room. Try to have something to eat for me by the time I come out, alright? Alright...”

Zach and Silas watched Odysseus take his one backpack, the rest of his heavy hoard simply left where he had dropped it. “He's the exact sort of guy,” Zach began, his expression still neutral, “That you just know has a dick so small that he has to compensate in every. Other. Aspect of his life.”

Silas frowned when he heard a door open and then shut. 'He took the room that I wanted.'

***

The brevity of breathing room was something that Zach took complete advantage of: scrolling through inquiries on his phone. With Odyss-Ass and Silas getting settled, he simply had to survive whoever came in next and – O-oh.

Oh.

There were several dragons looking to move in, a banshee, and a dullahan. Zach grimaced at the notion of adding scorch marks and icicles to his daily maintenance rotation. And he actually liked being able to sleep, so he didn't need a banshee living under his roof. Their cries could pierce through any wall or barrier. Maybe the dullahan. Zach lifted his finger to open up the inquiry but his phone flashed as Faaria's picture popped up on the screen.

“I'm still mad at you.” Said Zach after he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Oh, shut up.” Faaria huffed out, “Anyway, do you have any rooms left?”

Zach grimaced. “Yes... but I feel like telling you that is opening the grounds for more 'make Zach miserable' time.”

He could hear Faaria roll her eyes over the phone. “Look, I am sending over a nice young thing who has just made it into town but needs a place to stay.”

“Never say 'nice young thing' again, please.”

“Shush!” Faaria hissed, “Anyway, he's going to be there soon. Don't scare him off with your usual mopey self.”

Zach's face was impassive but his words were flat and cold. “Well that was dickish.”

Faaria sighed. “Sorry, I'm sorry. Look, this kid is really nice but he's, well, trying to get away from some awful things.”

Zach took a seat. “Is he a refugee?”

“No, nothing to that extent. Look, just give him a chance, alright? I'll talk to you later.”

“Later then.” Zach hung up. The sound of slick tentacles sliding across the floor made Zach look to his left to see Nephubos crawling around.

_“Sorry, sorry!”_  The writhing mass said,  _“We are just exploring. There are so many things in here that we've never seen before. Like this!”_  Nephubos pressed themselves up against the couch and ran their tentacles along it.  _“It's so soft and plush! And you... recline upon it?”_

“Y-yeah.” Zach cleared his throat, “It's called --”

Nephubos pulled themselves over the back of the couch and landed next to Zach with a loud 'splat'. Zach moved a bit away from the ooze that started to seep into the upholstery. “A couch.”

_“I see, I see!”_  Nephubos reached into themselves and pulled out their unfazed notebook.  _“'Couuuuuch'.”_  They scribbled the word down and put several symbols next to it that Zach couldn't recognize. Nephubos's eyes swept across their gelatinous form to look at Zach.  _“This is nice.”_

“Mm-hm.” Zach hummed back. It was... He just didn't want to get too comfortable before – 

“Visitor!” The doorfairies shouted. Zach got up and walked over to the door. He braced himself to be smothered or slimed or tackled... But there wasn't any of that. 

He blinked and looked at the creature on the other side of the door. “Did Faaria tell you about this place?”

His hair was curlier than a freaking R&B convention. Simple but elegant horns twisted up from his head and the mask that was his face crinkled as he chuckled. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Come on in.” Zach stepped aside to let the rakshasa in. He carefully lifted his feet one at a time to avoid the rakshasa's long, striped tail as it followed along the floor. “I thought you guys usually stick to India.”

“Ha ha, yes.” The rakshasa chuckled again, bat wings shivering, “And, trust me, the weather here is already colder than I am used to.”

“It's 85 degrees.” Zach deadpanned.

The rakshasa turned to Zach and held out his hand. “Forgive my rudeness. My name is Suraj.”

Zach returned the gesture and continued into a bow. Zach knew a little about nonhuman culture, after all; he hadn't been raised on an Amish barn.

Zach had to ask, though, even if it was none of his business in the long run, “What's a predator like you doing in this neck of the woods? If I'm correct,” Zach sat back down, he was getting tired of the standing, “Rakshasa are social predators, right? Family piles and close-knit circles?”

Suraj's joyful disposition seemed to die for a quick second. But it soon came back. “I just wanted a change of scenery. It's never good to stay in the same place for too long, right?”

“I'd disagree on that,” Zach turned around, “Well, I can either show you to a remaining room or you can go searching on your own. Your choice.”

With a savage crack, a dozen dripping tentacles seeping out of Nephubos's room.  _“Oh no!”_  Nephubos pulled themselves across the floor. They ducked away from the fanged beak-like appendage that surged out and snapped at random.

With Nephubos fighting their bedroom furniture, Zach and Suraj had a moment to think. “Maybe...” Suraj hummed, “I should find a room to set my things in before it gets too late.” He yawned, both sets of fangs revealing themselves for a quick second. “Jet-lag is setting in something fierce.”

“Come on.” Zach waved Suraj over to follow him. “You might really like Room 7.”

They passed Nephubos's room on the way, the tentacle-bleb tying the monstrous beak of their bedroom-set so it would stop snapping.

“Should we help him?” Suraj asked Zach, but Nephubos slammed the door and waved one of their tentacles.

_“Nothing to worry about! Just settling into a new home!”_

“Home...” Suraj echoed. That word held just that much warmth coming from the rakshasa's lips.

***

It was going on 3:35.

Zach had relocated to the kitchen table. There were deposit checks and cash to the left of him and a layout of the condo in front of him. “Room 3 has a unicorn...” Zach scribbled onto a napkin, “Room 6 has a living porno prop, I have a douchebag in the basement and a turd-sandwich in Room 1...” His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he wrote Silas's and Suraj's names next to Room 2 and Room 7 respectively. And, with Gahiji bouncing in the picture, Zach had successfully managed to rent out all of his available rooms save for two.

_“Never! Ever! Met her at all!_

_Ya wish you never ever met her at all!”_

Zach snatched up his phone and walked into the main room. “Zach Bruys.”

“A good strong voice for such a strong-sounding name.”

Oh.

_Ooh, baby boy..._  Zach had to take a second to brace himself up against the nearest wall. Deep, like dark caverns hidden beneath the Earth, baritone voices. The one thing in the world that seemed to make him go weak in the knees.

“Can,” Zach swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, “Can I help you?”

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled and Zach felt himself falling ever faster. “I was in the market to rent a room. Well, two of them. To be precise.”

“Two rooms?” Zach echoed, feeling just how hot his face had become.

He could hear the flipping of pages before the voice asked, “Is this a good time to talk? I can call back at another ti--”

“No!” Zach insisted, embarrassingly loud at that. He caught himself too late and shook his head, “N-no. This -- I mean – now is fine.”

“Excellent.”

“Christ on a bike!” Zach fell on his ass with a shriek. He bit his lip again when he heard a bicycle chime in the hallway.

There was no time for that, though. Zach ran his eyes up the tall, broad physique that had appeared inside of the condo in the span of half a breath.

A wendigo. But not the Native American variety that Zach was used to. A dark blue suit with a raven tie, large leather shoes shined to perfection, and thick white hair that made up a beard in the front and fell in long tresses to his back.

Oh, there was also the matter of the large skull that rested upon his neck. A cross between lupine and crocdylinian features with deep dark eye-sockets only broken by the bright eyes within: flashing like blue and green fire as they regarded Zach. Zach followed the tight curl of his horns until the conversation began.

“Forgive my intrusion.” The wendigo closed the book that he had in his hands. “You've probably had a busy day and, here I am: popping in unannounced.”

Zach wished that he could have cared more but this creature's voice was turning his insides into jelly with every syllable.

“...weather we've been having. Oh, my manners.” The wendigo chuckled: the gentle shaking of his chest the only physical sign of the sound coming from him. “My name is Abelard von Baumgarten.” The wendigo offered a dark hand to Zach.

Zach took it and gave an earnest shake. The flesh was lukewarm at best but the way it engulfed his hand (and Zach was a pretty large guy) gave that deep, warm caress of a voice that much more weight.

They let go of one another. Zach covered his nearly flushing features with a quick hand; moving it away as soon as the warmth left his cheeks. “So, asking rent is $878, along with a deposit of first's and last's month.”

“But of course.” Abelard nodded, his facial features unmoving. As expected. And, as expected, Zach nearly groaned out like no man's business. He bit it back, though: continuing on.

“However, with you needing two rooms --”

Abelard reached into his breast pocket and, one extravagant flip between the fingers later, held a check out to Zach. “I am prepared and then some. In order to get these two rooms.”

Zach took the check and let his eyes follow the elegant curls and twists of Abelard's handwriting. Sure enough, there was the necessary amount for the two rooms. “Why...” Zach shook his head to clear away the fog known by anyone who had ever been near a sweet piece of ass, “Why did you need two rooms again?”

Abelard looked around until he noticed the couch. “Zach, take a seat with me.”

They both moved to the couch. Zach all but collapsed onto his side while Abelard slowly let himself sink into the plush cushions.

“I've just moved into town,” Abelard's words were so deep they rumbled through the couch and into Zach's very bones. Zach watched the Wendigo flip the pages of the heavy book he carried until he came to a sketch of the Dama Fristad skyline. “I was just offered a job as the resident Non-Human Researcher for the Dama Fristad Police Force.”

Zach quirked an eyebrow. “Really? And they didn't station you over in Necronia?”

That deep rumble rippled through Zach once more with Abelard's chuckle. “No. Apparently,” He leaned over and said, “Apparently I'm... 'too lively'.”

“Heh.” Zach thought to the phantom in the basement. “Oh, I have my own experiences with that.”

Abelard's eyes looked over to the dark discarded chest in the room. But he didn't speak on how it caught his attention. He allowed the discussion to merge over to his need for two rooms. “Evidence and records.” Abelard explained, “Seems to me that, despite what my work will entail, that I haven't earned enough priority to keep my library inside of the police department building.”

The door to Odysseus's room cracked open: the minotaur jogging over to the couch and tipping it over: Zach and Abelard faling to the floor.

“Where's the food, fat-ass?”

“You were serious about that?” Grumbled Zach. He hadn't gotten to his feet before he heard a painful-sounding bellow. He looked back up to see Abelard holding tight onto one of Odysseus's ears, the minotaur looking about ready to cry: one of his hooves stamping against the ground.

Odysseus bellowed out again, unable to twist out of Abelard's hold. “I know for a fact that you weren't raised in a barn, young one. Don't you figure that interrupting a conversation shows for a strong lack of manners?”

“Let go!!”

Abelard shook his head. “Apologize, young one.” When Odysseus choked and bellowed out once more, Zach could tell that Abelard was pinching harder.

“Fuck, okay, FINE!! Sorry!”

Abelard nodded and let Odysseus go. The minotaur immediately grabbed his ear to feel for any bleeding. He retreated to the kitchen and began rummaging about in the fridge on his own.

Zach got another good look at Abelard while the wendigo's back was turned. He really did fill those slacks out nicely.

A flutter by his ear. Periwinkle. Zach turned to see the doorfairy humming by his head. “Looks like you're at full capacity.”

“Yeah, it's like night and day.” Zach took a second to get the couch right-side-up again. “It's amazing what a ball of water and some resilient bones can do. But, here we are: eight very interesting tenants later.”

Odysseus peeked his head out of fridge, a celery stalk sticking out between his lips and a jug of milk in his hand. “Eight?”

Abelard picked up his book from where it had been tossed to the floor from Odysseus's pestering. “You may want to do a small recount.”

“What?” Zach blinked and held up his fingers. “Silveste, Nephubos, Gahiji, Fane – the little prick, Silas, Suraj, Odysseus, and, you, Abelard. That's eight tenants.” What were these guys getting at? He had single-handedly endured each and every one of their brazen introductions. He would have known first hand if a ninth non-human had tried sneaking in. The only way that he could have forgotten something like that is if they had come in before all the chaos had begun: Zach forgetting about them after the first blow to his self-esteem in the form of a door to the face.

Abelard said nothing. His eyes, though, were looking at that black chest that was sitting in the center of the main room.

Zach followed the wendigo's gaze and immediately remembered how this day had started. This friggin' chest and how he had nearly busted his shin open against it. How he had nearly broken his back carrying it in. And now it was trying to make more trouble for him?

“Hey.” Zach nudged his foot against the chest. “Hey. Get up.”

The chest rumbled and trembled. It yawned and grumbled. It snorted up a bit of air and let out a muffled sneeze.

The latch in front unclipped itself, allowing the lid of the chest to open with a significant 'pop'. Inside were rows upon rows of knife-like teeth and thick, opaque drool drenching over fleshy burgundy walls. 

A long, thick tongue lolled out of the chest and, on the inside of the lid, a great eye that shined like a ruby blinked up at those in the room. But it wasn't garnering the most attention at the moment.

Nay, that went to the form of the young boy whose torso hung out of the vicious chest: anything from his waist down dissolving into that slick, dark flesh. The boy 'sat up' and gave an exaggerated yawn that was copied by the rest of the chest. He opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings with ruby-colored eyes.

“Hey...” He looked and pouted, his thick bobs of copper hair following his motions, “This place is pretty nice on the inside...”

“And who are you?” Zach asked, already feeling like he wouldn't like the answer.

The boy... the treasure-chest... The mimic gave a small two-finger salute. “The name's Mira. And I want to live here!" 

Zach folded his arms. "Tough tiddy, kid. First off, I'm not even sure you should be living on your own. Secondly, do you even have the money to pay rent and a deposit. Third, I'm out of rooms."

Zach almost felt bad, too; he wouldn't want to send a little thing like this Mira out on the street. 

But Mira merely. 

Chuckled. 

"Listen, kid." He shrugged, "I've been around since the Aztecs were wiped out due to a bunch of guys who didn't know the meaning of 'pull out'. I'm not going to be rejected by some squirt barely out of diapers. Or access to PornHouse.com. Fucking douchebags." Mira sank into the chest, the lid falling shut. It opened up again so Mira's tongue could hold out two handfuls of gold coins, jewelry, and gemstones to Zach. 

Don't tell Zach how he knew they were real or how he figured that the mimic would lash out and rip off his arms, it was a mystery to him.

"This is all fine and good," Zach had to insist, "But I still don't have a room for you." 

Mira closed himself and reopened with his boyish appearance back in place. "I'll just stay in the main room here. A room of my own would probably be too much space anyway. Everything I need is inside me."

"Huh." Zach nodded, "That was surprisingly deep." 

"Of course it was!" Mira closed himself and reopened with a laptop in his hands. He turned it on and asked, "So, what's the passcode for the wifi in this place?" 

Zach had to decide what was more worth it at that moment: stopping Odysseus from eating him out of house and home, kicking the mimic out, or finding some way to keep Abelard talking so he could hear more of that lovely, lovely voice. 

He sat back down on the couch. "You." He pointed to Mira, the mimic waiting with wide eyes, "'Melancholia'." 

"Finally~!" Mira typed in the passcode, whooping when his laptop connected. 

Zach turned to Nephubos, the tentacle-bled crawling out of his room. "You. Has your furniture calmed down yet?" 

_"We... think so?"_  Nephubos offered. Zach watched Nephubos crawl to the kitchen and finally turned to Abelard. The wendigo looked down at him. Zach could swear he was smiling. 

"You have quite a bit of work ahead of you." Abelard hummed. But Zach merely reached for the remote and turned on the TV. The afternoon news was on: a clown reporter honking away her report about a local cafe that had just opened. 

"As long as my condo isn't burned down to the ground, we're good."


	4. Hooves and Claws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day with the new tenants.

* * *

 

 

The morning sun broke through the thick canopy of pine and ash trees. 

Crisp, clean waters cascaded down upon Silveste: cleansing his coat and relaxing his mane and tail so that they seemed to melt into the crystal pool surrounding him. Silveste nickered and moved away from the waterfall. “Blancher?” He called, his vision obscured by his soaked mane, “Bruner? I – Oh,” He stopped when he felt hooves upon him, “There you are.”

Blancher, the white donkey, brought over a woven basket filled with glass bottles and spheres full of powders and liquids.

Bruner, the brown donkey, came carrying towels knitted from the wool of Fae Ewes and golden brushes.

The two donkeys waded through the crystal pool until they were close enough. Blancher poured the contents of several bottles onto Silveste's back. A combination of sweet-smelling liquid and shimmering powder was massaged into the unicorn's drenched mane: Blancher's hooves belying just as much, if not more, dexterity as human fingers.

“I should get a new phone...” Silveste hummed, keeping his eyes shut to prevent any soap from getting into his eyes. “My parents are probably wondering about how the search is going. Though I  _have_  just moved in, so I guess I have a bit of a grace period. Also...”

Blancher and Bruner had learned, after twenty-two years of service to their prince, that the best means of action was to tune him out whenever he began to ramble. It wasn't a feat of disrespect, just an attempt to retain one's sanity.

Blancher guided Silveste underneath the waterfall: the clear waters whisking away the bubbles and oils.

Well.

_Most_  of the bubbles and oils.

You see, with more than two-thirds of the suds left, the waterfall had trickled out.

“Blancher... Bruner...” Silveste huffed out. But the two donkeys could only shake their heads.

“Water disruption?” Blancher asked.

“Water disruption.” Bruner confirmed.

Silveste walked to the shore of the lake and struggled to pull himself out with his form being weighed down by water. “This is a truly unacceptable course of occurrences! My follicles need to be lathered, rinsed, and repeated to a completionary scale before I can commence with my daily compendium of actions!”

Blancher and Bruner had tuned out around 'unacceptable', so they were waiting for their prince to calm down long enough so that they could get to the bottom of this.

Silveste grimaced with how he was still dripping with suds and oil. This had to be the work of whoever was in the room next to him.

“Blancher! Bruner!” Silveste nodded towards the small vale of trees that led to the door. “Let us go and clear up these chaotic principles of aquatics!”

***

Silveste knocked a hoof against the door of the room next to him. “Hello? Hello in there!”

Blancher and Bruner stood at either side of their prince; the unicorn huffing as he didn't get an answer soon enough for his liking.

_“Hello?!”_  Silveste knocked harder until his efforts resulted in the door easing inward: a warm air billowing over them.

Without hesitant thought, Silveste traveled down the golden brick-hewn path that led deep into the earth. Blancher and Bruner followed him in. They passed intricate carvings of hieroglyphics and paintings curled and swirled onto the wall in striking golds, reds, and blues.

A gentle tug on his tail stopped Silveste at the base of the descending staircase. The unicorn looked around and saw that, with a few more steps, he would have fallen head first into a pool of warm, jasmine-scented water.

Water that was surely the cause of his own shower being cut short.

Blancher and Bruner followed the sides of the pool until they happened upon two large paws dangling out of the water.

Silveste grit his teeth, nostrils flaring and hooves kicking at the ground. “A lion? Here?”

Blancher and Bruner narrowed their eyes, ready to defend their prince. “Dying to a lion in the line of duty.” Blancher hummed.

“Seems like a nice way to die.” Bruner whistled back.

The waters broke apart and the three equines in the room braced themselves for the worst...

“Wow!” Gahiji whistled as the waters settled, thick drops rolling down his mane and fur. “I didn't realize how deep this pool went! Ma'at really went above and beyond for me~!”

Blancher and Bruner immediately deflated away from their offensive stances. “Sphinx?” Blancher asked.

“Sphinx.” Bruner confirmed.

Silveste wasted no time when the assumed threat was dissolved. “Hark there! Keeper of wisdom!”

Gahiji tilted his head.

Silveste huffed out, “Okay... Could I inquire upon the fate of the aquatics belonging to me that would be facilitated for cleansing?”

Gahiji bit his lip. “I wouldn't know. I just filled up my pool for a bath a few minutes ago.”

Silveste stepped back. Someone who understood him upon first words. “Oh.” He shook some soap from his mane, “Well, then your bath has resulted upon the abrupt cessation of my own and I demand compensation!”

“But I didn't do anything...” Gahiji gave a little pout. As little as someone his size could muster. “You're really high-strung. Ooh, how about a massage! I'm really good at massages!”

Silveste groaned, his mane falling limp over his face. “Look,” He nickered, “I just want to finish my bath so I can move on with my day. Could I  _please_  use yours.”

Gahiji clapped his paws together. “Of course! That way we can talk, get to know each other, discuss our favorite foods...” Gahiji went on and on, not noticing how the water in his pool was starting to descend. By the time Blancher and Bruner noticed, Gahiji had felt his rump touch the bottom of the still-warm-but-ultimately-empty pool.

“Oh.” Gahiji frowned, tail flicking listlessly. “Well, that happened. I guess. But!” He beamed, “We can still talk! Oh, I know! Truth or dare! Twenty-Questions? 'Never Have I Ever'!”

Silveste could feel the hair in his mane cry out for washing and fluffing. It had been far too long: the oils were surely stripping away his hair's nutrients. Tears in his eyes, the unicorn tossed his head back and neighed, “ZACHARY!!”

***

The water-closet door swung open: Zachary setting down a toolbox and looking around. "I've lived here all my life." He deadpanned, "And I've  _never_  had the water-heater give up the ghost like this." 

"I can't go out like this!!" Silveste bayed out. His eyes frantically flitted left, then right. "There has to be some less-taken course of directory actions that has yet to be expl--" 

Zach used the bucket in the water-closet and poured some of the cooling water into it. He quickly upended the bucket over Silveste. "What did I say about doing that?" Zach sighed. 

Gahiji smothered a laugh behind his palm at the sight of Silveste's pitiful state. The poor unicorn's eyes began to water, and it wasn't from soap. "I'm a prince... Why is this happening to me?" 

Zach got out a wrench and went to work. With every twist of a nut and tap against hollow steel, his muscles bunched up underneath the shirt he wore. "Shit-times don't care about titles. When they decide that your life needs to suck for a bit, prepare to get on your knees, because shit-times are not gentle." 

Zach examined the exhausted water-heater. He finally whispered, "Shit." He got up and started to leave. 

"Where are you going?" Gahiji asked, bouncing after Zach and shaking the apartment. "Can we come?" 

Zach shook his head. "I need to go pick up some stuff to fix the water heater. Can you guys just... stay here so you can tell the others not to try and take baths until I fix this?" 

Silveste, once Blancher had come over with the briefcase that held his wand, took it and waved out a spell. The water was wicked away from his mane and tail: the curls returning and the colors shining as bright as ever. "I'm not so sure if we--"

"Can do!" Gahiji plopped a paw on top of Silveste's head. "Come back soon, Zach!" 

Zach shook his head. He patted his side to make sure he had his wallet and phone. Zach nodded to himself and walked out of the condo.

Bruner came along and offered Silveste a sparkling muffin. "Going out today?" 

Silveste took a bite and shook his head. "No... My mood has been shattered, torn, and all but dismantled into a million pieces before being tossed amongst the chaotic waves of life." 

The hallway was quiet save for occasional puffs of equine breathing. 

"..." Gahiji blinked. He leaned to the left. Then to the right. "So..." He asked Silveste, "What's your favorite color?"

"The color of disappointment and panic." Silveste frowned. 

Gahiji blinked. "Oh..! You must mean black! One of my former classmates really liked that color. Then again, he was a death-god, so I guess it was a given..."


	5. Shopping in ShimmerGale

* * *

 

 

“I think this might be it.”

The fluttering of pages.

“Okay, yep!”

Nestled between two department stores not too far from Zach's building, Pecan Pavillion was a simple bookstore that managed to keep a steady clientèle despite being in the era of digital publications reaming the living hell out of the printed word.

Rory Fontaine was similar in age and build to Zach, but his warm demeanor and small presence mixed with his softer voice made him seem that much younger. That much smaller in being.

“Here you go.” Rory set a book down on the counter in front of Zach, “'Plumbing and Piping on the Nonhuman Scale for Dinguses'.”

“ _Really_  wish it wasn't called that.” Zach frowned. He picked up the book and skimmed through a few pages. He also stepped aside when an old cyclops hobbled over. “You are a lifesaver, though.”

“Think nothing of it, Zach.” Rory rung up the old cyclops (throwing a free cookie into the bag; his favorite recipe). When the cyclops hobbled off, Rory adjusted his wide glasses.

“Aside from your plumbing issues... How's everything going so far?”

Zach reached into his pocket and slid over a fiver. Rory sighed, “That bad already, huh?”

“Not really.” Zach watched Rory take the bill and replace it with a package of three cookies wrapped in purple cellophane...

Which was soon joined by a twin.

And then a triplet.

Zach quirked an eyebrow at Rory, who simply offered, “Share them with your tenants, Zach. I'm sure they'd like them: every nonhuman that has ever tasted my cookies has raved about them.”

Zach knew better than to say anything about how those words could have had a second meaning. Didn't hurt to think about it, though.

“Well,” Zach shoved everything into his bag, taking special care of the cookies, “I'd better get home before the place gets pulled into a magical sinkhole.”

“Are you going to the gym tomorrow?” Rory asked, “They're finally fixing the racks.”

Zach cricked his neck, rubbing the initial smarting on his shoulder it caused. “Maybe. I won't be able to get a good set in if I'm constantly worrying about someone setting my condo on fire with a stray bolt of magic or some goth-wannabe pissant turning the place into a graveyard.”

Rory nodded, his bangs following the motion. “Well, text me to let me know. And, if anything else research-related pops up--”

“I'll come running back.” Zach waved as he left, ducking out of the way of the [Lamassu](https://c8.alamy.com/comp/JMA374/old-illustration-of-khorsabad-lamassu-chambrale-antique-assyrian-capital-JMA374.jpg) that was lumbering in.

***

Sand baths four times a week.

Soap and water baths three times a week.

Luckily for Silas, the morning of his new residence's water issues landed upon a sand-bath day.

The naga slithered out of his room and noted with a wash of relief that the main room and kitchen were empty.

Save for the mimic hammering away at a game controller connected to his laptop.

Silas really didn't feel like a conversation was needed; the mimic's eyes were focused on his screen.

He slithered into the kitchen and took a quick stock of what was on hand. Just enough flour... Just enough butter... Some vanilla extract. Wow, he really needed to do some grocery shopping before his classes started. As for then and there, however, Silas grabbed what few ingredients seemed good and set them on the counter.

His claws were washed with care, Silas making sure to get soap into the crevasses of his nails. A quick dry was followed by an apron being tied around the naga's waist. Silas searched for a bowl large enough for dry ingredients. The only one he found was, urgh... Plastic. Silas felt the bile rising up, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Something simple, was his thought. And, hey, if it was good, he could share some with Zach. The human seemed like he could do with some cheering up.

Sift the flour, like you're twisting a rope.

The baking soda, to perk up one's hopes.

Salt, to remind you to appreciate the sweet.

Shake those together, keep it neat.

Butter and sugar, the bane of bad tidings.

Whisk in eggs, vanilla, and milk to be sure. And the result will be a treasure to share and adore.

Silas poured the sweet-smelling mixture into a baking pan. The fact that Zach only seemed to have the most basic of basic cooking utensils made him yearn for his own kitchen essentials to be brought over from the nest as soon as possible.

Frosting would probably be nice. And Silas absolutely refused to mix up buttercream in a plastic bowl. When the oven timer went off, Silas slithered to his room to get one of the few glass bowls he had managed to fit into his suitcase.

No porous surfaces for any stray flavours to linger. Anything mixed inside of it would slide right out with a mere swi--

If Silas had a voice, it would have filled the air of the condo with his screams.

The cake he had left cooling on the counter had vanished with nary a crumb left after.

Silas rushed over to the counter. He looked underneath it, in the fridge, in the pantry... Silas then slithered over to the main room to ask anyone if they had seen his cake.

Sure enough, there it was.

More than half devoured by a Mimic and a Minotaur.

'What are you two doing?!' Silas signed in a panic.

Mira's eyes never left his laptop screen. But the giant red eye in the treasure-chest portion of his body regarded Silas with an air of indifference. “Were you saving this for someone or somethin?”

Odysseus scarfed down the rest of his cake and walked over. He slapped Silas on the back, nearly knocking him over, “You really need to work on your baking, scaliebutt. That cake tasted like shit.”

'THEN WHY DID YOU EAT IT?!'

***

Zach hopped off of the 32 Air Tram when it pulled into the station. He could have gone straight home. But his phone had just flashed with a notification that the open-market over in ShimmerGale was having a surprise sale and he had been meaning to stock up on produce.

“Really wish I had brought one of the guys with me to carry stuff back.” Outside of the Air Tram station a moss-covered path led to the main shopping avenue of ShimmerGale.

The air was heavy with the aroma of newborn lilies and ripe berries: the chimes of flying fairies and pixies punctuated the area. Zach stepped aside, the forest district quaking when the paw of the ancestral Dire Wolf hit the ground: followed by the rest of its gait. He passed by a small florist's shop. In front of it, two old treemen were gruffing and joking over a game of Chess.

“Come on!” That came from the leader of a group of dwarves. Several of them got into a truck, the leader shouting out, “If we're late to the mines again, I'll have the hides of all of ye!”

Zach walked past a pair of nymphs selling feathers and leaves, had to persuade a swarm of pixies to leave his hair alone, and opted to give directions to a will-o'-the-wisp couple who were trying to visit their daughter in Necronia.

“Remember,” Zach called after the glowing balls of green and pink fire, “If you reach the hall of Judgements and Repence, you've gone a bit too far.”

Zach watched them float away before quickening his pace.

There. The open-market at last.

As far as the eye can see, and a bit further on, there were booths and tables full to bursting with the fruits and baked goods of nonhuman labor.

Zach deftly avoided any table being handled by goblins and grabbed a basket.

“Turkish Delights~!” A young witch with white hair called out as Zach passed by, “I promise they taste better than the shitty ones my sister-in-law makes when she's busy trying to kill Jesus-allegory lions~!”

A jackalope reared up when Zach picked up some of their carrots and spinach. He turned around and picked up some turnips before handing the jackalope some money for his purchases.

“I wonder if anyone in the house is vegan...” Zach hummed, walking over to where an orc butcher was selling fresh cuts of meat. He paid for some short loin and some hanger steak, the orc grabbing a large butcher's knife and cutting out the choices. When they were wrapped up, Zach placed them into his basket and walked away.

It was only then that he remembered. “Wait. Isn't Suraj Hindu?” He looked down at the beef he had just purchased.

“Damn it.”

***

_'Wow!'_  All three of Nephubos's eyes went wide as the tentacle-bleb crawled around Abelard's library.  _'There are so many books in here!'_  The wendigo had taken a quick cold shower (because surely a brief coldwater wash wouldn't cause too much damage with what Gahiji and Silveste had told him) before setting up his much-needed space.

“Yes, young one. I know that your education is going to have you reading  _quite_  a bit. So feel free to come in and use whichever tome you need.”

With his bookshelves spanning from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with pamphlets, scrolls, and thick books filling up every nook and cranny, Abelard was  _still_  thinking about what supplies and collections he would need once he started working.

Nephubos crawled to one shelf in particular and pulled out a book entitled:  _''Dissection on the Past Relations of Humans and Nonhumans' – Oh! We shall start with this one!'_

Abelard chuckled and rubbed at his beard. “Keep in mind, young one, you can come in here anytime. And, unless I need it for a case, you can take as long as you'd like with any of my books as well.”

Nephubos nodded before they held the book close in its tentacles and crawled out of the room. They soon came back,  _'Thank you again! Your kindness is most appreciated!'_

Abelard walked over and pet the top of the slimy tentacle-bleb. “It is my pleasure, young one.”

***

After getting some fruits, more vegetables, and some chicken and fish (because fuck everything if he was going to make a bad impression on a rakshasa), Zach came to the full realization that there was  _no way_  he was going to be able to carry these things home.

“Where the hell is the Delivery Post again?”

The wooden counter of the ShimmerGale Open-Market Delivery post had been grown into the mossy-ground. Red and mauve toadstools peeked out here and there, ivy wrapping around the stool that grew up from the ground to accompany the counter. Zach walked over daisies, vines, and bluebells until he got to the admittedly small line to the Delivery Post.

If anything, it only seemed big because the two creatures ahead of him were ornate dragons. The Chinese sort, to give further detail. Talking away and flicking their long, scaled tails every so often: creating minute hazards that had to be avoided.

“I mean, it isn't even  _good_  sauce!” The golden dragon told his cobalt dragon friend, “Oy, I remember when I first came to this country! You could get a  _real_ , with  _actual_  Szechuan Sauce, for  _three dollars_! And that included tip! Oy vey, the passing of the years! It's a mess!”

“Ah, you are stuck in the past. Come, we need to get these groceries to your wife. She's a real berryer, that one!”

The two dragons spiraled off into the skies beyond the trees. Zach hefted his purchases up onto the counter. The employee on duty was a young gryphon, her fur a dusty tan and her beak painted pink (for painting one's beaks or talons was a bit of a new fashion with the gryphon set). “Alright...” She typed pretty fast for someone with heavy paws tipped with fearsome talons. “Address, please?”

“1685 Blightblossom Lane,” Zach answered, already getting his debit card out.

The gryphon typed everything up and, after calculating the weight of Zach's purchases, said, “That'll be 8.50 for delivery!”

Zach paid the fee and grabbed an apple from his purchases as they were carried off. “I really  _should_  start heading back.”


	6. Home Again, Home Again; Jiggety-Jig

* * *

 

 

“That's  _it!!_ ”

The door to the basement slammed open. Gahiji and Silveste could hear furious footsteps stomping up the stairs until the owner of the steps charged into the main room.

Fane glared at the two large living creatures sitting in front of him. Gone was his heavy black cloak in favor of a black hoodie and skinny jeans. The hood was pulled over his face but one could still see how his face was savagely torn between a skull and the limp, hanging skin of a corpse. A glowing green eye shined out from the eye-socket of the corpse half, slightly obscured by bangs haphazardly dyed pale blonde and pink. Despite his other eye being a deep, empty hole, the phantom kept a mighty scowl. “Has the friggin' water been fixed yet?”

Gahiji tilted his head before bouncing up, Silveste too late to warn him. “Ooh! You must be Fane! You look a lot different than I thought from your voice!”

Fane rolled his eye. “Can you answer my fucking question? Has the water been fixed yet? Actually, where's that fucking human anyway?”

“He went to go get the things to fix it, if you must know.” Silveste huffed. “All we can do is be patient.”

Fane groaned, storming over to the kitchen. On his way, he noticed Mira: still playing his game. Fane, quick as a whip, changed course and snapped the laptop shut.

“What the  _fuck?!_ ” Mira screamed. He whipped around and yelled at Fane, his lower body's teeth and eye rearing up. “Who put a bunch of sand in  _your_  vagina, asshole?!”

“Well, maybe you should listen when people are asking questions. Instead of playing your shitty, normie video game bullshit.”

“Oh, fuck off, you pretentious piece of hipster jailbait!!” Mira shouted back.

It was at that point that Suraj decided to pop out of his room. He had a pair of earbuds on, the soundtrack to his favorite Bollywood movie of the week blasting in his ears. He danced into the kitchen and started to make himself a cup of tea; oblivious to the fight boiling up around him.

“Um,” Fane puffed a bit of air against his lock of hair, “Do you have  _any_  idea who you're talking to?”

“Yeah!” Mira huffed, “Some spoiled pussy bitch-baby who has never had to deal with anyone calling him a pussy! Well, guess what?!” Mira took a deep breath, his small cheeks puffing up, “Y _OU'RE A GIANT, SPOILED PUSSY!_ ”

“THAT'S IT!” Fane yelled, charging at the Mimic.

At this point, Blancher and Bruner were shielding Silveste from whatever the conflict would bring. Gahiji frowned, turning to Silas, “Shouldn't we stop them?”

'Maybe the angry corpse will be able to cut my cake out of Mira's stomach.'

All the yelling had warranted Abelard to come out of his own room. “What is the meaning of all of this? All of you need to calm down and start acting like the young adults you are!”

Fane gave the advice as much note as one would give a 'Don't Pirate this Software' notice. He managed to seize Mira by the throat and was getting a good throttle going on before Mira shut himself. He bit deep into Fane's arms before hurling him down the hall.

Mira opened himself up and gave a smug shrug, “Talk shit, get hit.”

Suraj picked up his mug and took a deep sniff of the jasmine tea he had brewed. Looking up, he noticed the chaotic scene and took out one of his earbuds. “Did I... miss something here?”

Silveste sighed, resting his head against one of his hooves, “Hopefully this will be the end of it. I hope Zachary gets back soon...”

Gahiji was about to say something when his eyes flashed gold. He frowned and reached behind himself for an umbrella.

Silas quirked an eyebrow. 'What's that for?'

“Wait for it.” Gahiji sighed.

Abelard was about to berate all of the younger nonhumans again when he heard the creaking and the groaning. It got louder, sounding more and more painful.

Odysseus walked out of his bedroom, a porn magazine in his hand ('Succubus Salaciously', a classic publication). “What the hell are you faggots doing out here?!” The Minotaur bellowed out, “I'm just trying to beat my meat, like a normal person, and you all are out here: KILLING MY BONER!”

A boot-clad foot stomped into the carpet. Everyone looked down to hall to see Fane.

Hefting the water-heater above his head.

He clenched his teeth together and hurled it into Mira: the Mimic screaming until the heater made impact and sent him flying into the nearest wall.

Fane stood up straight and gave a toss of his shock of hair. “Eat that, asshole.” He felt a tapping at his shoulder. He turned and saw Abelard standing behind him. “What the fuck to you want?”

“Young man,” Abelard asked with a sigh, “Was that the water-heater you threw just now?”

Fane opened his mouth but the bubbling of water cut him off. Both of them turned around just in time to see a flood of water surge up and wash over them. Gahiji managed to black most of the water with his umbrella and Silveste was kept mostly safe via Blancher and Bruner. But Silas, Suraj, Odysseus, Fane, Mira, and Abelard were caught in the flood. The water filled the condo up to the ceiling and stayed there.

The opening of the front door was muted by the onslaught of water. But the majority of the water sluice out of the condo when the door was opened all the same. When the water let out, everyone took a moment to regain their bearings. Abelard stood up and removed his coat. “Oh, the dry-cleaning for this is going to be a nightmare.”

“MY  _RI-I-IG~!_ ” Mira sobbed, holding his waterlogged laptop to his chest.

However, one had to think back to the notion of the open door. Sure enough, it was Zach. He looked around the soaked remains of his condo: silent as the dead.

“Oh boy...” Gahiji frowned, Blancher asking,

“Think he's pissed?”

“He's definitely pissed.” Bruner answered.

But Zach stayed silent. He wiped the excess water off of the hallway table and set the cookies and book down. He then dialed a number on his phone.

And waited.

Everyone was too uneasy to be the first person to speak.

Zach kept on waiting until a voice on the other line spoke up. “Yes, is this Ascendant Home Repair? Yeah, I need someone out here ASAP.”

_'We do not wish to be alarming anyone!'_  Nephubos popped out of their room and cried, their words heavy with worry,  _'But we do not think that human living spaces are supposed to be wet like this!'_


	7. Coming Clean

* * *

 

 

Evening in Dama Fristad. The entire city was draped in the cloak of violet darkness: nocturnal beasts and late-shift workers wandering the streets.

Silas signed something but since the group was walking outside, Abelard had to step in as translator. “Silas shares my apologies for the damages.”

“It's fine.” Zach shrugged. “I guess it's my fault for leaving you guys alone so s—”

“Hey!” Odysseus snorted out, “Don't go talkin' about me like I'm a calf who needs babysitting, pencil-di--”

One withering look from Zach managed to shut the Minotaur up.

The group walked down the cool streets, light posts shining and basilisks slithering blindly towards final bus-stops.

Zach felt the ground quaking and knew that Gahiji's voice would soon be ringing in his ears. Soon enough, the sphinx bounced over to Zach's left and asked, “So... Where are we going? Ooh, is it the donut shop? I could go for donuts!”

“No donuts.” Zach sighed, stopping in front of a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant. You know, the types that scared off Yuppies but had better food than the best restaurants on Yelp.

Fane was quick to let his disgust be known. “Ugh, what the hell are we doing here?”

And, unfortunately, Silveste silently agreed. He could feel grease sticking to his coat just from standing in front of the restaurant. But Zach was already opening the door.

“Wǎn-shànghǎo~!” They were all immediately greeted by the family who owned the restaurant before the wash of spices flooded over them. Zach walked right up to the counter where the mother of the family, not at all daunted by the size of the large, leathery creature. Or her teeth.

“Oh, Zachary!” The Taotie grinned, the gesture spitting her face in two; a lone eye in the center of her head crinkling up. “You here for two-for-one dumpling platter night? I get you table!”

“No, no Mrs. Kwong.” Zach gave a low sigh. “Just a bath. Largest room, please.”

“We have to take baths here?” Fane scoffed and grimaced, “In a shitty Chinese restaurant? Can't you do anything useful and tell those repair dragons to hurry up?”

“Okay, one,” Zach began, “Shut the hell up.” Before Fane could sputter out in disbelief that a human of all things was talking back to him, Zach continued, “Two: The repair dragons said that they need at least five hours to get the condo back in shape. And three, and this is kind of important, ahem... I was on my way back to do a simple fix of the water-heater. You just had to lift the thing up from the pipes in your little hissy-fit. So can we please just enjoy a bath, get something to eat, and eventually go back home without any more diva bullshit? Okay?” Zach paid for the bath and a group dinner and, eventually, one of the employees came to guide them to an open room.

Zach followed the employee first and his tenants held back a bit. It was Mira who spoke first.

“You just had to go and piss the human off, didn't ya, Bonejangles?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

***

Eventually, Mrs. Kwong opened up a door down the hall and revealed a chamber the size of a suburban living room. The majority of the space was filled by the steaming pool of water that stretched from the small bit of tile where the table that bore towels and soaps, as well as a small patch of cubbies in the wall to place clothes and belongings in.

“I didn't realize it would be such a sizable space.” Abelard hummed, Zach nodding,

“When my friend Faaria threw a surprise party and ruined my plumbing a few years back, this place was a lifesaver. I've never had to use the larger rooms, though.”

Silveste walked along the edge of the pool. “I smell...” He took a deep whiff, “Seaside Jacaranda. Phantom Vanilla. And Leprechaun Salt!”

A decadent mixture mixed with warm water that gently bubbled like vintage soda pop.

“Well, I don't know about all of you,” Suraj said, already pulling off his shirt to reveal toned muscles under striped skin covered in faded scars, “But I am about to take full advantage of our incredible landlord's hospitality.”

The sentiment soon grew amongst everyone else: undressing and covering their sultry bits with towels. Though, there were a few hesitancies.

'We are uncertain about how safe this will be for us.' Nephubos cringed away from the steaming water.

Zach stopped just short of undoing his pants so he could go to one of the cubbies to get something...

***

'Yay!' Nephubos trilled out as they floated over the water on a small round inner-tube. 'Whoo!' They added as their tentacles dangled beneath them. 'And other joyous sounds of merriment!'

Blancher and Bruner helped Silveste into the warm pool, the unicorn prince letting out a content whinny as he let himself float through the scented pool.

One by one, everyone stepped inside of the pool (Gahiji grabbing some soap before cannonballing in). Everyone, of course, except for our grumpy phantom.

“I am not getting in this fucking pool.” Fane folded his arms and narrowed his eye, “Can't believe you guys are being so complacent in this. Bunch of friggin' normies...” He turned around. His chest cavity was determined to let his displeasure be known and unignorable. This stupid human... These miserable living nonhumans... Why had he settled for being stuck with –

Fane was yanked into the warm embrace of one-hundred percent bonafide Rakshasa. Now, of course, he had seen Suraj around the condo before. But this was Fane's first time really seeing him. All of him.

From curly hair.

To the veritable sausage hanging between his muscled thighs.

Now, what could have been going through Fane's mind? Things like 'Oh my God, how does he walk?' and 'Wait, is he hot? I think he's hot. Is that weird?' and, of course, 'Am I gay? Wait, this might be a crucial element in my personal development as a person and --”

“You are so tense, my friend.” Suraj placed a hand on the trembling phantom's shoulder, ignoring the green, ghastly flush and the wide eye and the shortness of breath. “Just join us: relax, take a load off.”

“'Load off'?” Fane gulped, forcing his eye away from Suraj's dick. Suraj chuckled and patted the phantom's back before stepping into the pool.

“He's out of your league, Bonejangles...” Mira told him as his chest floated by on a larger inner-tube. Fane merely glared at Mira until he was out of earshot. He glanced over to Suraj, the Rakshasa laughing at something Gahiji had said.

Fane frowned. He looked down. He started pulling his hoodie up and over his head.

Zach leaned his head back. It was half an expression of relaxation and half getting his hair wet so he could properly wash it. He let himself float upright and looked around for a bottle of shampoo. He didn't find one, but he did find a broad, solid wall of black muscle wading over to him.

“You've had a rough day, young one.” Abelard offered, oblivious to the way the water droplets moved down his chest and made him glisten. “How about I take care of your hair for you?”

Zach had to clear his throat and take a few breaths to balance himself. And to make sure that he didn't pop a semi in that wickedly warm water. “S-sure.”

Abelard waited for Zach to turn around and pull out the rubberband in his hair. The locks of brown hair fell flat, tickling the top of the water, before Abelard took a slow breath and poured some shampoo into his hands. “So...” Abelard cleared his throat, trying to change focus away from the close-proximity. “Can you tell me a little more about Dama Fristad? A bright young man like yourself surely has some insight on any...” He put a slight bit of pressure in his fingers: massaging into Zach's scalp, “Interesting spots?”

Zach shuddered a bit, the sensations combining with the warm water and turning his bones into mush.

The moment promptly shattering when Gahiji swam over, Mira perched on his back. “Yeah,” Mira leered down at Zach's relaxed expression, “Teach us the twists and turns of Dama Fristad.”

Zach could have just sworn that Mira was doing this to spite him. Nevertheless, if he could give them a brief rundown of the city, he could have a few hours of peace every so often.

He waited for the floating tray of soaps and powders to float by. Zach grabbed a few of them and let the tray float a bit in front of him. “So, Dama Fristad was made with different types of creatures, both human and nonhuman, in mind. The center,” He gestured to the tray, “Is kind of like neutral ground: ideal for humans but comfortable for most nonhumans. Then there are the five districts.” He poured some blue soap to the left of the tray. “Aquacia: The District of the Sea.” A dollop of purple soap to the right. “Miasmus: The District of Poison and Corruption.” Next to the fading blue soap, Zach added a spot of green. “ShimmerGale: The District of the Forest.”

Above the purple soap was sprinkled some charcoal powder. “Necromani: The District of the Dead.” Finally, next to the green blotch but under the purple, Zach dripped in some red oil. “Ignis Fanis: The District of Fire. But depending on when you look up into the sky, as well as your individual Net Worth,” That last part was added underneath his breath, “You can see El Doradus: The District of Gold."

***

A three-tier tray of food floated over the water: Suraj looking for anything he could actually eat before grabbing some dumplings and gently pushing the tray away with his tail.

"How much longer until the repair dragons are done again?" Silveste asked around his wand, magic drying his hair.

"Thirty more minutes," Zach replied, drinking a cup of wine. "Not much else to do but burn out the last few minutes."

Odysseus shoved some spare-ribs into his maw. "Hey, tell me something, stick-legs: why aren't you pissed off about the condo? Hell, I got interrupted when I was almost done and I'm livid."

Zach finished off his wine. His breathing was even and his expression didn't stray a minute margin outside his impassive coolness. "I am pissed. I am more than pissed. But, really, why should I even try to blow up on you guys. One, I can't."

"Wait," Abelard shook his head, "What do you mean 'you can't'?"

"I physically can't get upset." Zach answered, changing topic like no matter was minded, "Two: as long as you guys pay your rent, you can do whatever you guys want. Just know this..." He grabbed and ate the last sweet cake on the tray. "You all will never get your deposits back. No offense."

The room went quiet.

'We think we are starting to melt...' Nephubos whimpered as their inner-tube floated by and knocked the food tray away.

 


	8. Love-Scratched

* * *

 

 

The thing with beasts of fur and claw is that sharing a bed, while providing a primal, raw experience, has the result of sweating buckets in one's own bed due to the close contact.

Not to mention the 'fur-burn' (like beard-burn but all over your entire body). But, even with these factors, beasts and daemons bear some of the most complex of hearts. Hearts that bleed evermore, hearts that entomb themselves with iron thorns...

And there are the hearts that yearn for love like a parched man yearns for the drink.

***

Bedsprings creaked and complained from the two intertwined bodies above them. One was a man, handsome in face, strong in body.

But the second was a body covered in fur so creamy white that it held fast to itself like a pearl-finish. His mouth dropped open in a syrupy mewl at a particularly deep shift of hips: two sharp fangs hanging from the top, several sharp teeth jutting up from the bottom. His ears, rounded points, and strawberry-red insides, twitched and soft, round paws with paw pads of the same hue fell upon the man's back.

“Love...” The feline being tossed his head back, his breath in rough pants, “L-love you...”

“Mm-hm.” The man responded. But the feline didn't mind.

Being high on love and endorphins will do that to a creature.

***

Late that evening found the feline waking up and rolling onto his belly. He stretched out, his spine popping back into place from the series of contortions he had performed that night.

It was all more than worth it, though. A full night in the arms of the man you loved: the man who made your heart beat heavy, the man whose smile brought forth the morning sun!

The feline creature laid back down and pulled the sheets, a stray thread having caught his attention before he noticed the absence of his love.

He meowed, ears twitching and smooth tail gently flicking about. He got up from bed and prowled over to the bedroom door, peeking through the slightly opened door. He didn't have to go far. He didn't even have to listen too harshly.

“Come on...” He heard the voice of his love whispering, pleading,  _praying_. “Come on, come on, come on!”

The ding of an email being opened floated in the hall.

“Dear Mr... Bla-blah-blah... We are...  _proud_  to offer you the position of lead danc-- YES!” He quickly shut himself up and skimmed through the rest of the email. He pumped his fists into the air. He did a little jog-in-place for victory. “Fucking that creepy cat up the ass finally delivered!” He cleared his throat and attempted to compose himself: ruffling his hair, coughing a bit to roughen his voice.

He walked back into the bedroom. Butterscotch eyes glowed in the darkness, pulling a gulp from the man's stomach. “Couldn't sleep?”

“Oh, um.” The man shifted on his feet. “I was just... thirsty. You know: a night of lovemaking can do that to ya! Heh...”

“ _Love..._  making.” The feline hummed. “Yeah. Yeah, that's...” He rolled over so that his back faced his  _lover_. Out of sight, claws extended out from his squishy paws and cut into the sheets. “Hey. Hey, um, listen: maybe you should go for the night.”

“Huh?”

Was he  _really_ pulling an 'oblivious' act right now? “I have an early morning.” Those glowing eyes went narrow, the black slits inside of them contracting.

“Oh.” The man bit his lip. “I... Okay. I'll grab my stuff and see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah.” The feline huffed back. This was getting so beyond  _old_. He listened to the human gently walk around the room. He picked his clothes, got his briefcase and, finally, tip-toed over to the feline. He gave him a small peck on the back of his head. “See you later, babe.”

“Mm-hm.”

The bedroom door was pulled to a gentle close.

Then the door to the apartment.

When the footsteps started making the staircase outside his building ring and groan, the feline got up from bed. “Where did that collar get to?” He asked as he rummaged through his bedside drawer. “Ah.” He pulled out the familiar red silk collar that held a round golden bell. It stayed silent, even as the feline fastened the collar around his neck. When the collar was in its rightful place, the feline rang the bell with a bat of his paw.

The bell rang out with a hollow chime. It was a dying breath, a pathetic ran during a drought. The shadow of the feline warped and shifted: the smooth form growing jagged and twitching.

Before it could start, however, it was finished: the completion heralded by the sound of a semi truck's horn desperately crowing out.

The chaotic bout of noise was cut off by the sick, splattering crunch of flesh meeting steel and glass.

And then.

Silence.

 

… He just wanted to be loved.

***

“Alfalfa-Vanilla-Blueberry Smoothie for Silveste!” A young cashier called out the drink that they were setting upon the counter.

Blancher walked up, hooves grabbing the smoothie and walking back to the large booth where Silveste and Gahiji were waiting: Bruner arriving soon after with an order of sweet-cakes from the next-door cafe.

“Thank you.” Silveste nodded as Blancher set the cup in front of him. “This is an outing that provides a suitable amount of positive air, right?”

Gahiji nodded, smile ever-present. “It is! You know, I was actually thinking about trying this place with the Almighty Illuminator. But he's always so busy! You know: minding the sun and all.”

Silveste nodded and took a sip of his smoothie, allowing the smooth textures of the yogurt and tart blueberries paint his tongue. “If I may stray upon the territory of those outside of my wisdom and inquire upon your reasons for picking this city as a residence? Surely a creature of your rarity and prestige has available lodgings the world over.”

Gahiji didn't answer right away. His attention was taken by the harpy desperately trying to carry the large smoothie cup in her talons. Her wings desperately flapped and sweat poured down her face in buckets. She eventually  _was_  able to set the massive cup in front of Gahiji. The harpy wheezed and panted, “One... dragon-sized... Peach-Mango-Pomegranate Twister Smoothie... With a Ghee shot...” She gave one last wheeze, “And  _Hibiscus syrup..!_ ” She keeled over, her talons twitching in the air next to the table.

Silveste and Gahiji looked at the poor creature for a while before Silveste cleared his throat and when Blancher and Bruner walked over, he nodded his head in the harpy's direction.

The donkeys hefted the unconscious harpy into their arms and carried her away. Finally, Gahiji felt comfortable enough to wrap his lips around the straw and give a slow swallow. The sphinx licked his lips and sighed, “I just... want to enjoy as many of the world's surprises as I can. And Fane flooding the condo was  _definitely_  one of them!”

Silveste couldn't help but find that woefully vague as a response. Gahiji took another sip, but the sudden flashing of his eyes choked him a little. Gahiji looked at the unicorn across from him. “A bride? Do you think you can find one in this city?”

Silveste gasped, once more taken aback by how far-reaching a sphinx's knowledge ran. “Or a groom.” Silveste hummed. He leaned against the table, “I'm not picky with  _who_  my heart decides to court. But I  _do_  need a spouse sooner rather than later.”

They continued to chat. The company and their drinks providing enough of a blanket that they didn't notice the pitiful body slumped up against the main counter of the smoothie bar.

A Maneki-Neko. His fur was sleek and pearl-like and his eyes shined like aged candies floating deep in scented coat pockets.

The Maneki-Neko's tail curled and twisted around the stool he was sitting on as he licked at the sticky remains of the cup closest to him.

“Not to be a bother,” Said the woman who owned the smoothie bar, “But I  _think_  you may have had enough.”

The Maneki-Neko lifted his heavy head. He blinked up at her, miserable all the while, and batted a paw at the bell on his neck. It chimed like the welcoming bells of Heaven's highest-reviewed salon.

Immediately, a young man walked over and stuck two hundred-dollar bills into the tip jar.

Just as abruptly as he came, he was out the door. The owner of the smoothie bar blinked at the more-than-generous tip before bowing out. “Did I say 'enough'? I meant 'take your sweet time, you  _incredible_  creature'!”

The Maneki-Neko frowned. He pushed away his empty cup and tapped the counter. They couldn't take  _too_  long to make another one of his smoothies: they were literally just yogurt, condensed milk, vanilla bean, and a splash of fish oil!

Gahiji finished off the rest of his own smoothie. He opted to do a bit of people  _and_  nonhuman watching while Silveste was having Bruner text a message to his parents.

Humans... Elves... Oh, a water elemental. They were pretty far outside of Aquacia...

Then he noticed the Maneki-Neko at the counter. “Ooh!”

The Maneki-Neko yowled when Gahiji stretched his cheeks out. “Come on~!” Gahiji beamed, “No more sadness! Only joy now!”

When Gahiji removed his paws, the Maneki-Neko had to readjust his jaw. He glared up at the sphinx until Silveste walked over. “Is he deranged?” The Maneki-Neko rubbed at his face.

“He's a joy,” Silveste replied. He cleared his throat and stood proud. “I am Prince Silveste Winterdust.”

“And my name's Gahiji!” Gahiji said, “What's your name?”

“Oh, does it even matter?” The Maneki-Neko groaned. He seized his latest smoothie when it was brought over. “What does anything matter when you're going to end up cold and alone in this miserable world~!” He took a quick sip and continued, “I open my heart up and I get shat on every. Single. Time!”

The Maneki-Neko slumped over the counter, sobbing in those ugly tears that made everyone in a room feel horrendously awkward.

“Bad Breakup?” Blancher asked, hastily drinking the leftovers at the table.

“Bad Breakup.” Bruner confirmed, eating the remaining crumbs.

“Aw...” Gahiji bounced to the Maneki-Neko's side, “Everyone has their bad choices! You just have to stand up, keep the good times in mind, and think about what you want for your next relationship!”

There was chuckling.

Cold, mirthless... “My name's Eito.” The Maneki-Neko said, “And that whole song and dance you just talked about? Yeah, try keeping up that optimism when you're 57 and 0!”

Silveste's grimace was almost comical. “Fifty-seven lovers?” He whispered, “I can't even locate and make acquisitions for a part-time paramour!”

Eito sat up and drank more of his smoothie. The small TV propped up in the corner of the smoothie-bar flashed on, a clown news reporter was honking away about the recent tragic death of a young up-and-coming dancer.

“So sad,” Gahiji frowned a bit, “Taken away so soon. And by such a big truck.”

“Psh!”

Gahiji and Silveste looked to see Eito finishing off his last smoothie. “Asshole deserved it.”

“Wait,” Silveste tapped his hoof to his chin, “You did this? But, how? You are a creature of beneficial luck and circumstances!”

Eito shook his head, lips curling into a smirk, “You think I could run the lottery if everyone had good luck?” He batted at the bell on his collar, “Just being in my vicinity can give people good luck. Or, if they piss me off, bad luck. The bell here is a bit of a conduit.”

“But why would you,” Gahiji rolled a paw in the air, “Do a thing like that?”

Eito turned around on his stool. “I'm a simple creature, guys. I just want to be able to go home to someone who has as much love in their heart for me as I have for them. And how do you think it makes me feel when every. Last. One of them only wanted to fuck me for my Good Luck?!”

Gahiji finally sat down on one side of Eito, Silveste on the other. “Well...” Silveste hummed, “Perhaps you could try...  _not_  sleeping with every guy you fall in love with?”

Eito's face twisted into a grimace. “Those words that you're saying,” He wondered, “Can you combine them into a sentence like you're doing?”

“Yes!” Silveste neighed in exasperation, “Yes! You can! Maybe you should make an honest attempt at it!”

Eito licked at his paw and gently cleaned his face. “But how do you even show love in a relationship outside of sex?”

“Well!” Gahiji bounced to the left, “You get each other flowers!” He hopped up and jumped in place for a minute. “Oh, or you make the other's favorite meal after a long day at work!”

Eito pouted. “That seems harder than saying 'I Love You' and having sex.”

“But, I mean,” Silveste cleared his throat, “Love isn't easy. Love, divided into the four mighty houses: Phileo, Agape, Storge, and Eros.” He reared back and placed his front hooves on an empty stool, “All bearing their own trials and tribulations! All influential in the lives of creatures of nonhuman and human affiliations! The truest of loves are finding one whose life accepts you with an intricate but yielding mesh of compromise, understanding, romance, and--”

“Oh!” Eito shoved his way between Gahiji and Silveste to get a better look at the dashing young man who had come into the smoothie-bar. “Who's that good-looking side of Peking Duck over there?”

“Now, Eito,” Silveste tried to calm the Maneki-Neko down, “Remember what we talked about: think more about what you want in a lover--”

By this point, however, the Maneki-Neko already had hearts in his eyes and was hanging on every word that the human said.

“So... You're that Lucky Cat, right?”

“Mm-hm?” Eito snuggled into his chest.

“Yeah, you run the lottery and stuff, right?”

“But of  _course..._ ” Eito purred. He wrapped his tail around the human's waist, “How about... we go back to my place and, you know? Knock paws and boots?”

Before they could stop him, Eito had already gone off with his latest hope at 'true love'. 

When the Lucky Cat and the poor sod were gone, Gahiji hummed, "The Ancients had a phrase for what ails him. 'Love-Scratched'." 

"I don't imagine that there's an active cure for it." Silveste asked. 

Sure enough, Gahiji shook his head, "Nothing outside of growing up will fix that. Anyway~" He started pushing the unicorn prince out of the smoothie bar, "Come on, come on! Let's go do something! Like ride a train, or visit ShimmerGale, or even..!"  


	9. The Story of Delta-759

* * *

 

 

Even when the computer that hosted him was shut down or hibernating, he still had a small bit of consciousness.

Words said around him could be taken in in clips and gasps.

A crisp exhale of breath formed slight bytes that formed in the sterile space around his jaws.

“... maybe I could... make a copy... strip the code down...”

His human... He was talking to someone that he couldn't see from his blacked-out domain. His eyes did open, though: fading in from darkness to a low hum of pale blue binary code.

The beast in the darkness lifted his titanic form and waited. Not too much longer.

A series of clicks. Four keys in particular. The light washed over him: a warm wave growing up from the sterile darkness and illuminating a forest of winding code and pulsing circuits.

The lights grew brighter, causing the creature's iridescent scales to react. They shifted color, blue against black, turquoise against black, with every step he took.

“Delta-759?”

The draconian beast's glowing eyes blinked. He turned and lumbered after the echoing voice. “Delta-759, you in there?”

Delta-759 followed onward, He passed several shifts in RGB lighting, revealing an engraving of the Delta symbol on the bones folded against his back.

Delta-759 recoiled when a window of light appeared in front of him. There was a young man on the other side. You could tell from the bags poorly hidden behind his glasses and the cup of coffee quivering in his grip that he hadn't seen a bed in several days.

“Mateo.” Delta-759 rumbled, “I could hear you talking from all the way in here.”

***

“Can you blame me?” Mateo took another sip of coffee. He made a leisurely pace back and forth in front of a wall-to-wall flat-screen monitor, the digital dragon looking in from the other side. “All the coding, the debugging, the Q and A...”

“The worst-case scenarios,” Delta-759 puffed out, “The bruises, the sleepless nights – Look at you, Mateo!”

Mateo did a slight roll of the eyes before Delta-759 added, “You're exhausted! You need to take a knee and get some rest.”

“After!” Mateo downed the rest of his coffee, “Today's test! Delta-759, we're so close. After today, we can get the government off of our backs, get our money, and go off the map. You and me...”

Mateo stepped close. He pressed his hand to the screen, eyes imploring.

Delta-759 breathed out, long and hard: the crisp air flaring his nostrils. Delta-759 lifted one of his own paws and set it against the window in front of him.

“Finally together.” Mateo offered.

“Finally together.” Delta-759 sighed.

***

Mateo typed at his keyboard in rapid sweeps and swings. “Initializing Final Test for Project '759 – Here There Be'.”

Inside of his cybernetic forest, Delta-759 stepped towards the bough of a cliff of glass.

He dipped his head out of the way of two package-laden lights zipping past. Delta-759 didn't want to do this. But he needed to.

***

This was it. Mateo glanced at the three locked files on his desktop background. Three efforts. Three heartbreaks. Three failures.

They wouldn't let those sacrifices be in vain.

***

They would learn from those who had passed. Delta-759 felt the whip-like winds from the abyss beneath him. Crisp like an ocean; bubbling, churning.

***

“Alright,” Mateo started the screen and event recorders, “Delta-759, you ready?”

***

Delta-759 rolled his shoulders. The bones on his back lifted and spread, a gossamer webbing of light growing between them. “Initializing Phase 1.” Delta-759 let the sounds of the ceaseless current of information take him in. Chiming glass and spiraling chirps.

Delta-759 stepped back.

“Godspeed.” Mateo's voice rippled into his ear. Delta-759 bolted forward, leaping off the cliff and letting himself plummet. Plummet into the information stream.

He dove in with a crash but his body went on auto-pilot: swimming with the current.

Delta-759 extended his left wing, his trajectory shifting.

***

“How are you feeling, Delta?” Mateo asked. He jotted down the time and looked at the recorder to see how long they had been at this.

“To tell the truth,” Delta-759 chuckled, “It's great! The wings are handling excellently and my scales are substantial enough. The data stream isn't slicing through me at all.”

Mateo jotted down some notes. “Okay, try to increase your speed. Let's try by several knots.”

“Oh,” Delta-759, “I think I saw something about knots speed by--”

“Wrong knots!” Mateo sputtered out, “Wrong knots!!”

Delta-759 chuckled but got back to business. He whipped his tail, the increasing spires gleaming until, with a click and a whip, Delta-759's speed increased thrice-fold. The dragon dipped over exchanging emails, threaded the needle through uploading videos, and skated past salacious sites of ill-repute.

***

“Alright Delta,” Mateo typed up the command for the next part of the test. “How confident are you feeling right now?”

“I don't know.” Said Delta-759 with a grin, “What do you have in mind?”

***

Delta-759 got his answer just as he was going to make a turn into the rivulet of stocks. He saw a floating package that shined like Sunday mornings and flew right over. Delta-759 didn't grab it immediately, though. He flew a lazy circle around the package of data. His eyes performed a preliminary scan on it for any security measures.

He finally grabbed the package and announced to Mateo, “Initializing Phase 2.” Delta-759 flapped his wings and dived back into the main current.

***

This would be the heft of the test: the part that had Mateo gnawing his pencil to an early grave.

Going in was easy.

Coming back with something was the hard part.

“Keep an eye out, Delta...” He told the dragon.

***

Delta-759 nodded, following the information current into a forest of angry red spires.

This digital parody of a coral forest meant that he was in a more secure area: a place where people actually cared about their information.

Delta-759 stayed quiet and moved on.

He passed a particularly large spire: lights streaking up into the unknown and down into the deep but didn't stay long.

So he missed the ghostly pale face: the sunken in pools of darkness that were its eyes, the grimace on its face that promised only an unyielding hunger.

This miserable creature struggled down a wheezing breath and slithered through the digital current. It's slinking form kept to the shadows of the the spires.

ThepackageThepackage.Notsecure.InsideInsideInside.Wantit!Inside!Thepackage!Infect!Want!Infect!Want!Inside!ThePackage!ThePackage!MIIINNNE!!

Delta-759 hung a rapid right, dodging out of the way of rotten teeth that snarled and snapped.

“Delta-759?” Mateo leaned forward, furrowing his brow. “Delta, what's going on?” The video feed was always muddled in the deeper parts, so all he could rely on was audio.

A croupy snarl pierced through his headset, forcing him to pull it away. “Delta?!”

***

Delta-759 ducked out of the way of the infected creature's attack. This wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't ready for something like this. The dragon panted, already exhausted.

The infected creature lunged forward and knocked Delta-759 off balance. “MATE--!”

The sickly creature, like a bullet, like the slimiest little worm, shot through the digital flow.

Delta-759 shook himself back to his senses. Like a sailor fighting the seas, he reached down within and pulled with little strength he could find. His claws drawn, he drew back--

He faced an abyss known only to the most depraved of creatures: spindling spires of teeth laced the edges of a foul, cavernous maw that encompassed Delta-759 and the space all around him.

All the dragon could do was watch as the miserable mouth crawled forward and swallowed him whole; it's jaws closing in a cruel 'crack'.

***

Mateo felt his heart plummet: beating and screaming all the way down. “Delta-759!! Delta!!” He frantically typed in every variation of 'End Project' and 'Escape' he could think of. He even tried 'Ctrl-Alt-Dlt'-ing several times but he still wasn't getting a response. “No... No, no!!”

This wasn't happening. How could this be happening?! They had been so careful; he had predicted every. Single. Scenario!

“Delta-759, come on!” Mateo pulled at his hair. He was trying to pull out some kind of solution that he hadn't thought of.

But then.

The screen.

Went white.

Not an eggshell, not a pearl. But a grim, ghastly white.

Mateo adjusted his glasses, “What?” He tried to run his antivirus but his whole set-up had been locked. From his main computer to his television... Mateo spared a glance to the massive platform a few feet away. No, he hadn't allowed the computer any access to that yet, it couldn't--

“ _ **M-minemy-5476**_ _ **#@#!mi-mine-my-mi-mi N-647-no-now-now665667NOW!”**_

The unholy din of glitches and beeps was corrupting what sounded very similar to Delta-759's voice-bank. But Mateo knew better. Damn his sinking, shattering heart; he knew better!

Mateo lowered the volume on his headphones and spoke into the mic. “Where. Is. My dragon?”

He winced but didn't back down when his eventual response was:

“ _ **M-mine-**_ _ **mymymymy**_ _ **-1717171**_ _ **—HAHAHA-MYMYMINE--%$^%PACKAGEWORTHLESS!MYMYMYDATA###NEWDATA!**_

“Where the  _hell_  is Delta-759?!” Mateo shouted. “Answer me you glitchy piece of shit!!”

The platform in the room whirred to life. The laptop next to it turned on, the sole script on it pouring down the screen as it initiated a new program. A program that, after so many hours pored over it, now had Mateo's blood running frigid.

“That...” He shook his head, standing and sending his chair spinning back, “That can't be happening. Only I have the passwords to access that program, you can't...”

“ _ **HAHAHAHAHA**_ _ **!”**_

The infected remains of Delta-759's voice-bank screamed,

_**“PASSWORDS:** _ _**_**DELTADRAGON** _ _**!** _ _**DELTADRAGOON** _ ** _ _**!CAMELOT!”** _

Mateo jumped into action. Even as he reached the laptop that was causing the platform to shine brighter and brighter, the lights were winding and twisting: swallowing down matter and taking on physical shape.

“No, no, no!” Mateo hissed as every firewall he put up was shattered or extinguished by a warping of one of the passwords that the infection had data-mined for.

Two more firewalls went down.

_**“D-D-DELTA-TA-TAANDMATE-o-O-o000%#%#%-O!”** _

The antivirus was soon overwhelmed.

_**“NEW!NEW!DATA!7 &7w96&&&!!!!5%5%%MYMYMY--”** _

“FUCK!” A surge of electricity from the laptop seized Mateo and flung him across the room. He couldn't move; the impact, the electricity, they had left him numb. All he could do was watch as the virus, a stealthy behemoth of one, overwhelmed all of his computers one by one; the laptop beginning to overheat with how much data was being run through.

Mateo was helpless. He seethed through the pain, not only in his body but also in his mind and heart. Delta-759... He had betrayed someone he cared about  _again_.

The platform kept building upon the physical weight of the lights it gathered. Soon the gnarled and twisted form couldn't even fit upon it, but still it grew.

Larger and larger.

Mateo saw those eyes, formerly beautiful blue pools of code, now writhing orbs of malignant errors. “Delta...” Mateo rasped out, his words punctuated by wet coughs, “759...”

The beast threw its warped head back and let the skies and air above suffer its corrupted roar.

 

_**“Data.** _

_**Mine now.** _

_**More Data.** _

_**Mine.** _

_**It will be mine.** _

_**Mine. Now.** _

_**Now.** _

_**Forever.”** _

***

Zach stood next to Mira inside of a small electronics shop located two streets over. “What about this one?” He pointed to an impressive-looking computer set-up.

The disgust upon Mira's face dripped down like bacon-fat. “You're shitting me, right? This hunk of crap isn't anywhere  _near_  my old rig's stats! Besides,” He pouted and folded his arms, “I need a laptop, not a PC. Where would I even  _keep_  this glorified doorstop  _anyway_?!”

“Can you  _not_  be a prick about this?” Zach asked, face as impassive as was the norm. “I  _am_  trying to help you. Actually, can I ask: why are you out here if you're just going to complain?”

“Pegasus Parcel doesn't have Same-Day Shipping for all of the parts I need. I thought I'd buy local,  _buuut..._ ” He turned around in his chest and addressed the shop-owner, “Your selection is  _shit~!_  You hear me?  _SHIT~!_ ”

“And we go now.” Zach hefted Mira inside of the modified stroller that Mira had offered upon hearing that Zach was going out to replace his rig.

Mira only smirked and shrugged when he heard the angry shop-owner shouting about how they were banned. “Like I'd want to come back any way.”

Zach sighed, looking up as he pushed Mira along. It was a nice afternoon: not too late as the sky had gained an orange hue, but not too early as to bring about cries of 'High Noon'.

Mira was looking around, far too used to being chauffeured around like this, and saw that they were about to pass a bistro. “Hey! Stop here, I'm hungry!”

“Do you have money?” Zach asked.

Mira pouted, looking all the part of a stubborn brat. “I paid rent, didn't I?”

Zach shook his head and pushed Mira inside. They were quickly offered seats at the counter and Zach took the soonest opportunity to sit down.

After making sure that Mira was close enough to the counter to see what he wanted.

God, it felt like he was baby-sitting a toddler. Outside of the drooling tongue filling the treasure chest and the vicious teeth, Mira filled the role exactly.

Which could have meant that Mira didn't fill the role at all.

Mira skimmed over the menu before calling out to the server, “Oy~! Cabron~! Give me the spiciest empanadas you can make~!”

The server clenched his fist and carved the order into the notepad he had before giving Zach his best smile. “And for you?”

“Can I just have a glass of water?” Zach asked, “Oh, actually...” He skimmed through the menu for a bit. May as well get his energy up before pushing Mira back home.

Mira piped out, “Hey, get us a bottle of tequila t-- Whoa,  _hey!_ ” He shrieked when his chest was shoved aside.

Zach watched a strange newcomer move like a man possessed. He fumbled with plugging in his laptop-charger, he slammed said laptop on the counter and nearly tore off the screen in his haste.

“Come on, come on, come on..!” He seethed, eyes scanning through the screen in shaky motions.

It was just getting  _too_  weird. And Zach currently shared a home with a sphinx, a unicorn, a wendigo, and God could only count what else at this point, so  _he_  would know full well what constituted as 'weird'.

He reached out to nudge the guy on the shoulder, noting the name-tag on his lanyard that read 'Mateo'. Mateo recoiled back, eyes wide and frantic. “What? What is it?!”

“Easy.” Zach took his hand back, “Just trying to see what's going on.”

“Well, I don't have the time to talk!” Mateo snapped. But Mira was  _not_  one to let things slide.

“Hey! Dickhead!!” Mira shouted, “Are we going to have a problem or what?!”

“Can you guys just fuck off for a sec?” Mateo grit his teeth and clicked on one stream. Nothing. Then another. Nothing again.

“No!” Mira was seething now, the eye in his chest glaring and shining particularly bright. “No, buddy, you're shit out of luck if you think I'm just going to 'fuck o--'”

Everything in the bistro lurched three feet to the left: a massive roar echoing up from the ground and piercing through every digital screen.

“Wha...” Mira's second tongue extended from his chest and righted him back up, “What the hell was that?”

Zach got up. After checking that nothing was broken, he saw Mateo pulling at his hair. “Where are you?” He choked when Zach turned him around.

“Listen.” Zach said, holding Mateo with a bit more strength than necessary, “I just want to know if whatever you're messing with is going to make me have to find a detour home.”

“Look, buddy!” Mateo stood up, forcing Zach's hand, “I have a life-or-death situation going here! So if you could just fuck off for a sec--”

That glitching din of a roar filled the air once more.

Mira looked around, his voice wavering the smallest amount, “What  _is_  that?”

“Delta-759!!” Mateo called out. He grabbed his laptop and ran out of the bistro before any of the bistro staff could stop him.

Zach knew he should have just left well enough alone.

But he  _did_  have to get Mira home.

He jogged outside just to stop dead in his tracks: looking up in the same direction that Mateo was.

“Don't just  _leave me_  here!” Mira pulled himself up into his stroller and used his tongue to move towards the door. “Listen, I'll just wait for Pegasus Parcel. Let's get the hell out of here and...” Mira's words trailed off when he finally looked up. “Holy Quetzalcoatl...”

Delta-759 loomed over them: the virus's influence causing his once-proud body to bloat and stretch. A miasma of infection wafted between the wriggling snakes that were his teeth. His wings constantly shattered and rebuilt themselves, the broken pieces falling to the ground and piercing cars and buildings when they made impact.

And those writhing eyes. They rolled around in the dragon's skull, the virus looking for the next succulent piece of 'data' to devour.

The writing eyes swiveled down and saw Mateo, Zach, and Mira.

Delta-759 roared and surged down.


	10. The Demise of Delta-759

* * *

 

 

Zach pulled Mateo and pushed Mira out of the way, his own feet scuffing the tip of one of Delta-759's scales as the dragon crashed into the bistro.

Delta-759 thrashed and coiled. His feverish brain couldn't make heads or tails of what had just happened, so Zach took the window of opportunity to get as far away from the creature as possible.

“Delta-759...”

Zach turned to see Mateo. He was regarding the dragon with such pity in his eyes, such forlorn crushing his face.

“I take it,” Zach began, “That you know that dragon?”

The abrupt, bubbling chirp of a siren interrupted whatever dialogue that was trying to bubble up.

Like the actual police siren, not the type of guys and gals who got a jolly out of wrecking ships.

Out of a nearby waterway popped two of Dama Fristad's finest. Navy blue uniforms lay clean and pressed over their breasts. Though one's hair was long and the other's tightly-curled, both of their heads were topped in decorated berets of their uniforms' hue.

Fringed ears flicked away excess water and the tails that ended their lower bodies shined as brilliant gems in the water.

“Megaphone.” One of the mermaids held her hand out to the other, a conch shell megaphone being set down. “Attention!” The first mermaid called out, “Attention! You are, like, currently in violation of Dama Fristad Ordinance D-3869!”

The mermaid police were talking but Delta-759 wasn't listening. His jaws snapped shut around the main register of the restaurant, swallowing it and the surrounding debris: the weight of it a visible bulge as it slid down his throat. “Please cease your actions and turn yourself in or else, like, totally risk physical retaliation!”

Delta-759 jerked and twitched. His body contorted until he was facing the police officers.

The air had no time to grow tense. Delta-759 lashed his tail at the mermaid police, throwing them into the wall of a nearby building.

“Delta-759, stop!” Mateo jumped up and ran to the dragon. He grabbed his laptop and rapped his fingers on the keys. “Come on, where's an antivirus strong enough to--”

Delta-759 snarled and beat his wings. Once, twice, and into the air he went: slicing through the air like a vicious storm front.

“Crap...” Mateo removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A slick length wrapped around his stomach and pulled him where Zach was standing next to Mira.

Mira let go of Mateo and shut himself. He opened back up, cherubic face glaring up at the human. “You must have the world's shittiest Firewall/Antivirus software.”

Mateo pulled his arm back and curled his fingers into a fist. “Shut the hell up!”

Mira flinched and shut his eyes, body tensing up for the hit.

The hit that never came.

Mira slowly opened his eyes. He had to blink at what he was seeing, but he was, in fact, seeing it.

Zach was holding Mateo's arm in place: right in the middle of its path towards his face. “ _Let go_  of me!!” Mateo screamed.

“No.” Zach deadpanned out, “Not until you calm down and tell me what all of that was about.”

“Ha!” Mateo barked out. “You really think I'm going to just spill out my business for some  _rando_  on the street?” When Zach didn't let go – Jesus and Mary this guy was stronger than his boring expression let on – Mateo began slinging everything he could think of. “For all I know you could be some kind of Russian spy, or you could working for some terrorist cell--”

Zach jerked a thumb towards the street. “I'm just trying to find out if I'm going to be able to catch the A9 home.” He poked Mira's pouty face right in the cheek, “Carrying this guy around is building up to some serious back-problems.”

Mateo's face burned. His skin was throbbing, he was so upset.

But he took a deep breath. A little of the fire flickered out. Another deep breath and Zach finally let him go.

Mateo rubbed the sore part of his arm. Who the  _hell_  did this asshole think he was? Him and his stupid little Mimic fuckbuddy.

“Delta.” He cleared his throat, “Delta-759 is my... My friend.”

“Just a friend?” Mira folded his arms, the eye in the back of his chest lifting an eyebrow.

Mateo clicked his tongue. “More than just a friend, fine! Delta's been with me since the day he was born.”

“He's a dragon.” Zach said, “And not too small either, how is that possible?”

“ _God..!_ ” Mateo groaned, “I  _made_  him,  _okay?!_  I'm a software programmer. I built and cultivated Delta-759 from the ground up. Piece by piece, byte by byte.”

“A virtual dragon?” Mira looked over to where the staff of the bistro was trying to make heads or tails of the restaurant rubble.

Mateo shook his head, “Don't insult me. Delta-759 is way more than just a 'virtual dragon'.” He was doing his best to ignore how he could hear how Delta-759's roars carried on the wind. “Project 759. My first commission. Can you imagine it?” He looked down at his laptop: the wifi signal far fainter than what it usually was in this part of town. “Perfect internet surveillance. No chances of hacking, illegal sales, torrenting... All gone when there's a living, breathing entity eyeing every single action made online.”

“Wow.” Zach wondered if he should go help the bistro staff, “That sounds--”

“Fucking  _awful_.” Mira interrupted. “What kind of naive bull – Wait,” He interrupted himself, “Who commissioned you?”

“That's classified!”

“A government job?” Mira scoffed, “Really? You expect a bunch of human gringos to be trustworthy when it comes to controlling the internet? They can't even decide whether or not its a universal right.”

Mira took a moment to glance at the person reading this right now.

Then he went back to the conversation at hand. “If anything, this just tells you that you were doing something stupid, stupid!”

“Look, I've already sunk  _years_  of development time into this!” Mateo turned away, “I've failed too many times to let this end like this...”

_***_

“ _Alpha-759!” Mateo screamed, horrified at the convulsing dragon on his screen. He had uploaded too much information too fast; her scales popping up from her overheated body. Mateo was forced to pull his headphones away. He couldn't bear the sounds of Alpha-759 screaming... roaring in agony._

_***_

_Beta-759 swam through the Internet. It was a normal routine expedition to see if the wings Mateo had coded were enough to support a dragon while still allowing mobility._

“ _Veer left, Beta-759,” Mateo ordered into his headset._

_Beta-759 nodded and extended one of his gossamer wings out. He wanted to gradually change his direction, to ease into it._

_A zip file zipped by, crashing into his wing and shattering it on impact._

“ _Mateo!” Beta-759 flapped his remaining wing, his body plunging into the dark abyss. “Mateo, help me! Stop the simulation and help me..!”_

“ _I...” Mateo swallowed. “I can't...”_

“ _MATEO..!!” Beta-759 screams echoed, even as his code was torn apart by the darkest parts of the internet._

_***_

_Gamma-759._

_It had to be Gamma-759._

…  _It just had to be Gamma-759._

_Mateo watched the slim dragon on the screen sift through a constant stream of information._

_Message boards were what they had been looking through. His clients had expressed an interest in being able to screen every message put onto any message board at any time._

_Gamma-759 had the propensity, now it was just a matter of seeing him action._

_48 hours of action._

_Well, to be frank, Gamma-759 only made it 36 hours. The dragon pulled away from the window to the message feed. He thrashed and rolled on the ground, heaving and baying out._

“ _Gamma-759, what the hell is wrong with you?” Mateo called out, “Gamma-759!”_

_Gamma-759 was already gone. His mind burned down to the numb from the constant flow of inane, spiteful, circling information._

_Mateo watched the dragon hurl himself up against the nearest tree: cracking his skull against it over._

_And over._

“ _Damn it!” Mateo held his head, his other curses under his breath._

_How had he managed to create a dragon with such a fragile mind?_

_How had he failed so many times over?_

_***_

Mateo opened his eyes. “I have to fix this. Delta-759 is my latest chance at making this work.”

“What I'm not getting,” Zach began, “Is how your friend is out here if he's just a program.”

The brief softening of Mateo's eyes would have been missed by most. But not Mira.

“He wanted to be real.” Mira said, “Didn't he? He wanted to be with you.”

Mateo chuckled. It was sad but it still was a chuckle. “I only got this commission because of my first project. A machine to bring virtual objects to the real world. Delta-759, he... He means a lot to me. I promised,” He took a breath, looking away. “I promised him that after this project, after the last of the tests, we could be toge--”

“Piece of shit.”

Mateo stopped right then and there. “ _Excuse_  me?”

Mira grit his teeth, the eye in the back of his chest burning in his anger, “You're the worst kind of human. Did you – did you  _even_  care about what happened to him?!”

“Don't talk about me like you know me!” Was Mateo's retort, “I care about him more than I've cared about anything in my life!”

Mira wasn't convinced. “Okay.” Mira said, tilting his head; hair falling into his eyes, “Okay. If you care  _so_  much about him, tell me: what were you planning to do after you got your money?”

Mateo choked on his breath. “What... what are you,” He huffed, left eye twitching, “I was going to bring Delta-759 t-to the physical world and we were going to live together.”

Zach hated where this was going. This kid was a terrible liar.

“Cut the crap, kid!” Mira said and this whole while he was beginning to sound like his true age: a far cry from his cherubic cheeks and filthy mouth. “You didn't care! You just fucked with someone's life for money! Just like every other fucking human from the beginning of time!”

There was something else behind these words. Zach took another look at Mira. The Mimic was trembling, his breathing harsh and heated. “You fucked up! And the worst thing is that you don't care! Humans never _care!!”_

_***_

“ _Mi..ra..?”_

“ _Yes, my prince? I'm here, alright? I'm here.”_

“ _It's so hot... Where's Papa?”_

“ _Shh, little one. You need your rest.”_

_***_

“Mira.” Zach tried to stop him.

“ _All you guys do is use and take and you never think about who you're hurting!”_  Mira trailed off in a ragged shout, “Zach, take me home! I can't look at this piece of shit anymore!”

Zach waited a moment. He wasn't going to let Mira think he was in control here. He eventually walked past a stupefied Mateo. Zach grabbed the handles of Mira's stroller and before he started pushing, he had to say one thing.

“I hope your friend... Delta... Still has whatever image of you he had in his mind. It can only be better than what I'm seeing right now.”

***

By that point, the two mermaid officers who were flung aside had been roused into wakefulness by their Oct-0 Units. “Ugh, what the hell happened?” One of the officers groaned.

“Like, I haven't felt this bad since the massive hangover I got from Uncle Siklon's last birthday.”

The first mermaid pushed her cephalopod away and snatched up 2-way radio she had clipped to her hip.

“Time to get some backup on this.” She said, wincing as another building was attacked.

***

“ _Attention all available units!”_

Up in the skies above Dama Fristad, out of sight of the tallest buildings and just below where El Doradus would be floating through normally.

“ _Attention all available units!”_  A small dispatch radio squawked out from its perch upon a pink, scaley hip.

“ _We have a hostile assailant! Code D-3869! I repeat: a hostile D-3869!”_  A body of melting and building flame flapped his wings.

“ _Can anyone who is available come and, like, help out or something?!”_  

The fiery wings flapped again, a voice singing out, “Hm... D-3869? Which one was that again?”

“Oy vey,” Pink wings flapped and rose claws pedaled through the skies, “How did you even get through the Academy?”

“I had my ways.” A golden beak smirked, ruby eyes rolling.

“D-3869.”

The two bickering voices ceased in the presence of one more. Calmer, more reserved.

“'Unauthorized Draconic Rampage'.” A pair of massive raven's wings, feather a glossy black, picked up speed. “Let's go!”

***

Delta-759's writhing teeth ripped through the signal towers near the center of town. By this point, humans and nonhuman alike had heard and seen the destruction coming their way.

Two mermaid officers who were actually covering security duty near the Lady of Acceptance statue took aim and fired at the approaching dragon.

The paralysis darts either bounced off of Delta-759's hide or sank into his rotting flesh. “Like, what the hell kind of dragon is this anyway?!” One of the mermaid officers shouted, the two of them diving into the waterway to avoid the lashing of Delta-759's tail.

An old dragon who was down from El Doradus shopping for her niece's upcoming Bat Mitzvah took a step forward. “Ay, bubbala... Stop this nonsense, you're making your ancestors weep...”

Delta-759 whipped his head around. He spread his wings and began charging at the old dragon, anguished cries flooding out from the bystanders.

A sonic boom cracked the air, two smaller ones following soon after. Delta-759 turned away from his first target. He snarled at the sight of flaming wings, pink scales, and black feathers: all dressed in the same uniforms as the mermaids, just with more medals pinned upon the fabric. Of course, modifications for each body were needed. Say, for a dragon's physique the best mode of dress would be a zip-up vest with a matching belt for her equipment. A Phoenix, on the other hand, would have a modified cap and cuffs around his ankles. And for the shining star of the Dama Fristad police force?

A young Karasu-tengu barely breaking 23 years but already a captain of his own squadron? His uniform was the most complete: a full-set with his medals pinned upon the scarf that trailed behind him. His large wings of ink-black feathers kept him floating in the air: a safe distance from Delta-759 but still in the dragon's sight.

“Attention.” The Karasu-tengu announced, “My name is Captain Oshiro.” A shift in the wind made the scarf flutter to the left. The name 'Oshiro' was embroidered upon it. “I'm here in front of you with my fellow members of the Dama Fristad Police Force. Lieutenant Officer Gasko.” The pink dragon nodded. “And Inspector Officer Ruan.” The Phoenix gave a quick salute. Captain Oshiro continued. “Your actions today have resulted in thousands of dollars in damages as well as the cessation of commerce and the endangerment of citizens. You are currently in violation of Ordinance D-3869, as well as the refusal of arrest.”

Captain Oshiro lowered his voice a fraction. “Will you stand down? Or risk physical retaliation?”

Delta-759 roared in their direction. His wriggling teeth shook and a bubble of fetid breath rose up from his throat.

Captain Oshiro slowly inhaled.

Exhale.

“You have the right to remain silent.” He said, “Anything you say or do will be held against you in the eyes of our Lady of Acceptance: Dama Fristad.”

Delta-759 belched out a wave of his toxic breath. Oshiro, Gasko, and Ruan shot out of the way. As fast as the mermaid officers were in the water, the three of them shattered those speeds when it came to the air.

Ruan let out a shriek, his body enveloping in boiling flames. He made a beeline into the toxic fumes. They lit up in a rainbow of fire and, with a flap of Inspector Ruan's wings, the remnants of the fumes vanished.

Lieutenant Gasko roared as she pedaled her claws through the air, her wings pushing her forward. Delta-759 lashed out with his tail, but Gasko ducked right; she weaved left. “Fercockt little baby...” She growled, seizing the middle portion of Delta-759's tail.

_**“ERROR!”**_  Delta-759's voice crackled out,  ** _“_** _ **MALF**_ ** _-F-F-55522220101010-FUNCTION_ _!!”_**

Gasko landed on the ground. Her claws extended and dug into the ground with an audible crunch. It was time to put her upper-body strength to work.

Lieutenant Gasko pulled her head back, muscles tensing under her scales. She lifted Delta-759 up by the hindquarters and flung him into a nearby building.

“I hope the chief can write that off as an expense!” Inspector Ruan whistled out.

Gasko rolled her eyes, “Focus on your job, goyim!”

Captain Oshiro landed on the debris that was once the street. They weren't done yet. Not by a mile.

Delta-759 surged out from the ruined building. He was gnashing his teeth; his mind gone in rage. Captain Oshiro stepped aside, allowing Delta-759 to trip over his own feet. Captain Oshiro was about to get into the fray when his earpiece buzzed. “Yes, Chief? … Of course. ... Yes, I understand. … Right.” He looked upon the diseased dragon, grimacing at how his flesh was beginning to slough off of his bones.

“Gasko!” He crowed out, “Ruan! The Chief just called! He said we need to stop playing around and finish this!”

“'Playing', he calls it!” Ruan shook his head. He and Gasko flew down to meet Oshiro on the ground.

Gasko stood behind Ruan as the Phoenix made a circle with his wings. Gasko took a deep breath, a warm light shining in her throat underneath her scales.

Oshiro stood behind her. He needed the best shot possible to end this without any excess casualties or damages. “Left. Two inches.”

Gasko and Ruan, in perfect unison, moved to the left to the specifications of Oshiro's measurements.

Delta-759 got back into a standing position and made to extend his decaying wings. “Anticipate a potential ascension. Adjust for optimal seven-inch upward adjustment.”

Delta-759's right wing crumpled and ripped free from his back. It landed on the ground with a squelch.

Oshiro inhaled.

Exhale.

“Strike that last direction.” He remeasured and said, “Down. Half an inch. Hold.”

Gasko was starting to feel the heat in her throat rise from the confining pressure but still, she held on. Ruan kept his arms up above him, frowning at the exertion of the pose.

“Stop!”

Gasko choked on her flames and Ruan almost fell flat on his face. Captain Oshiro looked around until he saw a human rushing in between them and the rotting dragon.

“Delta-759, enough!” Mateo yelled at the dragon whose eyes were being split open and eaten through by the worms inside. “Just stop it, okay? Don't you remember? What you wanted?”

Delta-759 jerked and twitched. _ **“Ma-Ma-Ma-3333336666668888—Teo-0-0-0-!! &*%^*-o?!”**_

“Yeah.” Mateo nodded, “Yeah, it's me. Come on...” He reached into his pocket and slowly brought out a flash drive. “I need you to calm down so I can help you. Okay?”

Delta-759 coughed out, Mateo not even flinching as some of the foul-smelling ooze held fast to his clothes. “Easy... Easy...”

“No.”

Mateo blinked at the small voice. It came from Delta-759's disintegrating chest as well as the screens in an electronics store.

“Are you the virus that took Delta-759 away from me?” He asked.

“No.” The voice replied. “I am the ailment that saved him from an even worse fate.”

“What are you--”

The screens in the store lit up, showing video. Video of Mateo in his apartment, before any of this, had happened.

“Wait.” Mateo's eyes went wide. He turned away from Delta-759, “Don't play that!  _You can't play that!!_ ”

In the video, Mateo was on a phone call with an unknown party. “Of  _course_  I'm not going to allow the government to be the only ones with this asset. Anyone who wants to bid high enough can get in on it. … Maybe I could, you know, make a copy and strip the code down. Alter it whenever anyone drops the cash.” The past Mateo chuckled, “ _Of course I'm fine with it_. He's just a program. I made three failures before him, I can make a dozen successes after.”

The screens flickered off. Mateo... Well, he was torn, but guilt wasn't one of the forces pulling at him.

He hated how his meal-ticket had turned out like this, but he just couldn't find it in himself to feel awful about lying to Delta-759.

He was just a bunch of code.

The roar that rent the skies was more violent than all the ones before. Mateo couldn't move.

Even as the ground began to quake and tremble, Delta-759 dragging his crumpling body towards the human.

Mateo couldn't move.

**“Ma-Ma-Mat-Te-Te-Te-OOOO!”**  Delta-759 called out. His claws tore away from his feet but he moved on.

_**“MATEO!!!”** _

Delta-759 roared, opening his mouth wide enough that the jaw disconnected from his head.

“Fire.” Captain Oshiro ordered. Lieutenant Gasko finally breathed out the plumes of flame in her throat. Inspector Ruan let the flames gather behind his wings until they were in one place. He tightened the circle, the flames concentrated into a single bolt. It shot forward and through Delta-759's chest. The remains of Delta-759 shattered like thin glass: the sound echoing longer than Delta-759's final words.

Watching the shattering remains of Delta-759 rain against the ground, something inside of him broke.

“All my work. Everything.” He slammed his fist against the ground.  _“ALL OF IT'S GONE!!”_

To make matters worse, he felt the cold bite of cuffs against one of his wrists. Mateo turned around just as his other hand was forced into the same cuffs.

“You're under arrest.” A mermaid officer told him.

“ _What?!”_  Mateo shouted, “You can't – Let go of me! Let go, I need to get started on another dragon! Let go!!”

“What a miserable meshuganah...” Gasko rubbed at her sore throat, “Geez, I'm going to have to nurse this when I get home.”

“He knew.”

Gasko and Ruan looked away from the mermaid officers escorting Mateo away and back to Oshiro. “What was that?” Gasko asked.

“The other dragon, Delta-759,” Oshiro explained, “He knew. He probably just didn't want to come to terms with it.”

Ruan shook his head. “This whole thing has just left me feeling dirty.” Oshiro could concur.

“You two head on back to the station for the debriefing. I'll join you guys after I make sure everything is okay here.” The dragon and the phoenix flew off. Captain Oshiro waited until they had passed the horizon. He reached into his back pocket and brought out his cellphone.

He pressed the first contact on it and pressed it to his ear.

“H-hi. Are you busy? … No, no. Everything's clear here. I just.” He inhaled.

Exhale.

 

_“I just wanted to hear your voice.”_


	11. Silas's First Day of School...

* * *

 

 

'Flash-roasted Arabica beans. Goat milk infused with Ciguapa-harvested vanilla. Dragonfire cinnamon. Steep everything together in a stainless steel saucepan for thirty-minutes to the dot. Not a moment less; not a moment more.'

Silas grabbed the saucepan's handle and set it upon the waiting towel on the counter.

A bowl of scalding water was waiting for Silas, so he grabbed a smaller bowl and set it on top. Into it he added gradual amounts of sugar, sweet cream, and dark cacao.

The earthy tones melted into one another, Silas combining them until they became a smooth cream. Silas folded the sweet mixture into the bitter one spoonful at a time. Finally, he poured a steaming cup of the decadent and set it in front of Abelard; the wendigo sitting at the table.

Abelard took the cup, allowed the melody of scents to flood his senses. He took a sip. “Hm.” He took another. Silas's claws nearly shredded his apron into a dozen pieces.

Abelard got halfway through the cup and set it down with a sigh. “Young one, that was exquisite.”

'You really think so?' Silas signed after handing over the pre-class checklist his school had given him.

Abelard gave a quick nod as he scribbled his name next to the checkbox. “The perfect combination of earthy aromatics and gentle airy flows makes for an excellent,” He had to stop and take a sip, “Cup of coffee.”

After taking the now-complete form, Silas nodded and started getting his stuff together. He grabbed his messenger bag and slipped his favorite baking sheet, measuring cup, and recipe book.

Abelard finished off his coffee, asking, “Are you sure that you won't be needing a ride to school? I'm dropping off Nephubos already, so it shouldn't be a problem.” He glanced at the couch where Nephubos was laying on their side. They had come across a sparkling pink notebook the other day when Zach had helped them with school shopping.

_'Glorious pink notebook...'_  Nephubos reverently ran a tentacle over the notebook's surface. His eyes were wide, looking into the great beyond,  _'Tell us your secrets...'_

Silas shook his head. 'No, no. Thank you but I should be fine.' Silas slithered into the kitchen to grab one last thing from one of the cabinets. It was a bottle of aged vanilla extract, cultivated from the angel gardens and nourished with their tears.

Is it a bit pretentious in sound? A little, maybe. But the bottle was one of Silas's greatest treasures, so he didn't care.

'Abelard?' Silas signed, grabbing his phone and placing the bottle in his bag, 'Can you tell Zach and the others that I'll be back around 4?'

Abelard gently waved Silas off with a chuckle. “Go on, before you're late.”

Silas smiled and closed the front door behind himself.

***

Keebalah Culinary Technical Institute was an elegant mouthful located near the edge of the ShimmerGale District. So Silas decided that today would be a wonderful day to take an air-tram on his own for the first time. His mother never let him go anywhere without her, let alone anything so far off the ground like an air-tram would be.

Silas moved closer to Central Station. So much hustle and bustle. An Erymanthian Boar nearly trampled his tail in their rush to get to an arriving shuttle.

_That_  would have been something to tell his mother. 'Oh yeah, I got my tail run over on the first day of school!' She would rush over and take him back to the nest forever.

Silas frowned at the grassy gate blocking him from the rest of the terminal. Hm... He hadn't remembered hearing anything about something like this. But... No, no; this wouldn't do. Silas had to get to school. Maybe he could...

He knelt down. Or, rather, that's what the gesture would be called if Silas had knees.

Silas moved flat on his belly and started to slither underneath the grassy bars--

“For crying out loud, kid,” The security guard on duty groaned, “Just buy a pass and come on in like a normal person!”

Silas stood up and looked around until he saw a kiosk. Oh, so that's how it worked.

He slithered to the machine and slipped in a few dollars. The small card that was to be his pass printed out at a snail's pace. By the time it was in Silas's hands, the station intercoms were announcing, “Now Approaching: Route B6 – To Keebalah Culinary Tech.”

Oh no, no,  _no!_ Silas slithered across the station floors. He whipped his head left and right, desperate to find his tram before it left. He couldn't be late for the first day of class, he just couldn't! What kind of impression would that have made?!

A large wooden form, painted with a dozen different hues bumped into him. It was even shaped like an odd, oblong egg.

'Ow...' He signed out before thinking. When he looked up, the wooden figure was glaring down at him.

“Hey!” The large form said before opening up in its middle to let a slightly smaller form jump out.

“Watch!” The slightly smaller form opened up to let out another slightly smaller form.

“Where!”

“You're!”

“Going!”

“Buddy!”

The last shout was a tiny sound from a tiny wooden figure who stood in front of the rest of its timber troupe.

'B-but,' Silas began, 'You all bumped into m--'

“Eh, fuck this.” The tiniest one huffed and jumped inside of the slightly bigger one. The reversal continued until they were all inside of the biggest figure. “I'm already running the clock wasting time on you anyway.”

The Matryochik rolled away towards the nearby air-tram, leaving Silas to sigh before continuing to look for his own.

He veritably stumbled upon it as a slew of humans and nonhumans alike shoved their way inside; leaving Silas out. He slithered close to the door of the tram that was still open. 'Um...' He signed, though no one was paying any attention, 'Excuse me? Can I just... squeeze in here real qui – Eep!' His hands stopped when he felt a large hand swallow his entire left side. He turned and saw an orc-woman looking none-too sympathetic to his plight. Silas looked from the black and gold cap to her hair that was pulled back into a tight bun and down to her dress-suit and shoes.

“You're holding up the train.” She growled out, bearing her tusks.

This orc was... Oh! The tram conductor!

She picked him up like he weighed nothing and hurled him into the doors. Silas found himself shoved right up against a dozen overly-perfumed and sweaty humans and nonhumans.

Despite being forced halfway into the air-tram, Silas's tail was still hanging out of the doors.

The tram conductor frowned. “We're running late.” She growled and drew her foot back, swinging it forth and landing square on Silas's backside and pushing him in that final necessary inch.

The doors slammed shut and the conductor knocked against the side of the air tram. The air-tram chugged to life and began tugging along the wire frame that led into the airways of Dama Fristad.

Inside, Silas twisted and writhed until he and his smarting bottom could press up against the air-tram door.

As awful as getting on had been, Silas's breath was pulled away from him by the vision given to him through the window. The pulling skyline of Dama Fristad, being able to see the tops of the fiery district of Ignis Fanis, the refreshing district of Aquacia... He could see the poisonous mists of Miasmus, the crows flying in search of Necronia's daily carrion... And, of course, the verdant trees of ShimmerGale.

Silas couldn't help the quiet chuckle that left him as he saw a group of gryphons flying through the air around the air-tram A group of school-aged wind-spirits giggled and landed upon the tram. They were soon shooed away by the engineer, though their breezes still shook the tram a bit.

It was amazing how, despite being born in this city, Silas had never really seen... any of it.

***

When the air-tram stopped, Silas popped out and let the fresh scent of the ShimmerGale forests and flora embrace his tongue. He didn't even have to slither too far: the ancient, moss-covered behemoth of a tree, the third largest in this mythical wood, that was his destination couldn't be missed.

It was wider than most buildings; denser, covered in thick gnarls and knots. Its branches heaved and swayed in the breeze, weighed down with blooms and nuts innumerable.

The Institute was right in front of him. Keebalah: through these doors the world's best pastry chefs had earned their wings. Silas's heart was pounding. This was it. This was finally it.

He slithered to the trunk of the massive tree and looked up. Silas took a short breath and rested his hand on the aged wood. The great tree began to hum and shiver as it opened up a small door to welcome Silas in.

Silas wasted no time, flinching when the tree shut behind him. He held his messenger bag close and tried to find where he needed to go. The scent of fresh-baked cookies was almost cloying inside of the tree. Everything had been shaved and polished to a smooth golden state. It was almost like a warm stainless... gold.

In the corner of his eye. Silas had almost missed it, but he slithered back and saw a poster on the wall that said 'New Students! Get To Room 372! NOW!'

372... 372... Silas skimmed over the numbers he passed, looking for that number. He only happened upon the right door thanks to someone stepping out of it to make a quick phone call. Thank goodness, he had made it. Looking around the large classroom, Silas immediately felt at home. A wall full of ovens, stainless steel counters, the latest models of stoves, and pantries that were  _sure_  to have all sorts of raw, unique ingredients for them to work with.

Silas slithered inside and looked for a table of his own. It gave him the opportunity to look at his classmates: like the large, sticky form of gelatinous, multicolored ooze that was a Gummy Fiend. Or the very same Matryochik from the air-tram station: looking just as jerkish and stuck-up as before. There were humans here and there, a few more nonhumans, but it seemed like the instructor had yet to show.

Silas sat down at an empty table and waited: his tail flicking behind him and his claws interlocking. Nothing much happened for a while. Another human walked in, her heels clicking against the polished floors.

Silas, who had started looking up recipes in his book that would make a good impression, didn't look up.

“This seat taken, honey?” A voice, raspy like burnt sugar and warm like chocolate, pressed up against Silas's ear.

Er...

Where his ear would be if he had them.

Silas jerked, his tongue slipping out to taste the air before he could catch himself. He gulped as he smelt the sweetest mixture of strawberry pie and sangria. He didn't just smell it. Despite his intentions, he  _drank_  it down. He turned to his side to see a breath-taking specimen of a woman take a seat next to him. Form-tight jeans that showed every nuance of her hips. A leather belt with a shiny buckle that read 'Perfect Piece', a long-sleeved red blouse covered in polka-dots. She had her black hair cut to a medium length and it curled at the ends that weren't obscured by her flora bandana.

Silas couldn't help how much he was staring. She was the most breath-taking woman he had ever seen.

She would have had to be blind to ignore the awestruck naga in front of her. “Hey.” She smirked, bright red lips holding the gesture as her cheeks made her beauty mark dance a bit. “You got a name? I mean, I reckon you should at least give it to me in exchange for the free show you're gettin'.”

Silas stopped himself from getting too distracted by the breasts that filled out that polka-dotted blouse. He frantically signed out, 'M-my name! Silas! Yep! That's my name!'

She giggled behind her hand (ruby nails too,  _God_!). “The name's Susannah. Now,” She nodded towards the opening door, “Put your tongue away. Looks like our teacher's comin' in.”

The door slammed open. Everyone rushed to their tables just as a large elf walked in. His rounded chest and belly preceded him with swaths of dark auburn hair popping out of his shirt from the front and under his sweaty arms.

Silas watched as the unkempt elf dressed in a culinary uniform, overgrown beard taking over the lower half of his face, walked to the front of the class. Surely this wasn't their professor... He  _couldn't_  be.

The elf looked around. His eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a sneer. He hawked and spat out onto the floor. “Listen up, ya slack-jawed piles of sugar-puke!” The rotund elf said, lumbering in front of the class, “ _This_. Is Keebalah Culinary Tech. The highest breed of bakers, chocolatiers, and candy-makers have all been sired from these hallowed halls,” He stopped to cup at his crotch, making sure that everyone was watching, “And me own virile loins! SO! I'll be damned if any of ye think that you'll be able to coast by my courses with  _namby-pamby_  petite-fours! Or the family recipe cookies you stole from underneath your grandma's skirt!”

Nobody said a word. Save for the poor guy who raised his hand to ask, “Are... Are  _you_  Professor Ernest?”

“OUT!” The elf boomed. He stormed over, grabbed the guy, and hurled him out of the window before you could say 'Creme Brulee'.

Promptly afterward, the elf turned and walked through the aisles. “You all will call me 'Chef' and not stray from it, ya hear?!”

Everyone nodded.

“Good.” Chef frowned as he looked over his class for the upcoming year. Not a worthy one amongst them. “You all aren't worth shite! I shouldn't even be wastin' mah breath here but you all have the delusion of wantin' to learn, so I'm not gonna deny ye your funerals. Now!” He stomped onto the floor, triggering a wooden podium to jut out. “I'm takin' role! If you don't answer, you get an 'F' for the day!” Chef called out the names of the remaining students until he got to:

“Saccharin!”

The Gummy Fiend gargled out. “Present and accounted for~!”

“Matvey!”

“Here!” All the parts of the Matryochik called back.

“Susannah!”

Susannah folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Present!”

“Silas!”

'Here!' Silas signed out. Chef frowned when he didn't hear anything.

“What did I say about payin' attention, ya pieces of rotten cream cheese?!” He wrote in an 'F' next to Silas's name.

'What?!' Silas stood up, signing up a storm, 'I responded! I'm right here!'

Chef slammed his attendance binder shut after several more names. “Alright, enough of that!” He slammed the podium back into the floor. “Get yer asses into gear and try to impress me! Not that any of ye will succeed...” He turned around and scratched his hairy stomach. “GET A MOVE ON!”

Everyone sprung into action: rushing to wash their hands, trying to get the best ingredients from the pantry, preheating ovens.

But Silas was struck still. He had already gotten an 'F'? But how? He didn't even get to do anything? His shoulders slumped; his tail went limp. Maybe... Maybe his mother was right...

***

“ _Culinary school?” Charlotte had a confused look on her face as she looked down at the pamphlet her son was holding out._

_Silas nodded before signing, 'I_ really _like baking and working with sweets, Mother. I was thinking that --'_

_Charlotte snatched the pamphlet from Silas's hands and tossed it in the trash. 'Mother, wh--'_

_He was stopped as Charlotte pulled him close against her chest, shaking her head. “None of that, dear... Shh...” Silas was forced to accept the petting of his head. “No silly thoughts of leaving home... You're fine with me and your father here. Shh... Quiet now...”_

_Silas's claws made brief motions, 'But...'_

_Charlotte's tail seized her sons hands and she shook her head again. “Just stay in the nest and you'll be fine. Oh, at a culinary school they would just yell at you and belittle you!_ Here _you're safe! My little egg...'_

***

“Hey!”

Silas shook his head out of the memory when Susannah punched him in the shoulder. 'Ow...'

“You need to make yourself stand out!” Susannah nodded towards the chaotic pantries and the crowded ovens. “C'mon!”

Silas watched Susannah jump into the fray. Once he stopped looking at her ass, he realized that she was right. He had to stand out; he had to make a good impression, just like he had initially hoped.

Silas slithered over to a sink and washed his claws before rushing over to join the culinary cacophony.


	12. ... It Was Great

* * *

 

 

“THIRTY MORE MINUTES!” Chef shouted over the blistering cacophony of the baking brigade.

Silas frowned as someone bumped into him on their way to the sink to blanche their fruits. Had it really been an hour already?

“One side!”

Silas moved back to allow Susannah some room to grab the sweet bread she had toasting in the oven. “Eyes on the prize, honey.” She winked back at him and gently turned his head back to his work. Silas gulped, looking down at the boiling cream in the saucepan in front of him. He poured in a generous amount of castor sugar and waited until it mixed into the thickening cream mixture. Silas reached into his pocket and brought out his ace in the hole: his heavenly vanilla extract.

It would be just the perfect edge to make him stand out amongst his peers. The dark, fragrant fluid landed with a heavy splash. Silas whisked the mixture together and tossed the pot into the cooling dock. Just for a second, though, because he had to pour in a small mixture of gelatin he had made earlier on. He had to get this mixture into the ramekins to cool as soon as possible. He didn't think that their professor would be one for giving them extra time.

The crash of pots against plates yanked everyone away from their plates. Chef was roaring down at an elf: a singed towel hanging limp in her hands.

“Are ye tryin' to burn this whole tree down, ya milk-toothed brat?!”

“Chef, I-I'm sorr--”

“I should kick ya out of here right now!” Chef interrupted, “But I'm actually curious about how else you can fuck up in so little time! Get back to your bakin'!” He shoved the elf against the oven and moved on. “That goes for all of ya!”

Silas didn't have to be told twice. The ramekins were chilling in an impressive blast-freezer, so Silas took the opportunity to make a simple raspberry sauce. Just something for that extra kick. He tossed a cup of raspberries, strawberries, fox berries, and cloudberries into a food-processor and set it to puree.

He shouldn't.

He really needed to focus.

Silas turned to... check up on Susannah. Yeah, that was it.

A wooden spoon was pressed in between those beautiful red lips, Susannah glaring down at her dish. “What am I missing?” She whispered to herself, licking the back of the spoon and making Silas wish that there were two of them so he could get a better fantasy goi--

“EIGHT MINUTES!”

Silas shook his head, his tail winding around to smack him in the cheek. He needed to get this done! Attractive southern girls be damned!

Time was melting down all around them. The berries weren't pureed all the way but he needed to get the sauce started so he turned off the processor and set them to a boil with some sugar and lemon juice. 'Come on...' He begged, turning the heat up to the highest setting and stirring like a madman.

“FIVE MINUTES, YE WASTES OF SPACE!”

Silas rushed to the blast-freezer. The ramekins were cool enough and he rushed over to the presentation table to start building. He flipped the ramekins over onto the available platters and waited for gravity to be a team-player. 'The sauce!' He hissed and slithered over too the stove. 'No-o-o!' The subtle scent of burning sugar was already hitting his tongue. The sauce was a mess: too clumpy and burnt-smelling. But he was out of time. He didn't even need Chef shout of 'LAST MINUTE' to tell him that much.

Silas grabbed the saucepan and took it to the presentation table. His tail gently tugged the ramekins off of the creamy jiggly domes so he could stir a bit more.

Chef folded his arms over his large belly and counted, “ELEVEN!”

Silas just wanted to get the last of the lumps in the sauce out... With this army of breath-stealing work, he just wanted to make his small contribution stand out in the upper echelon. That was it...

“TEN!”

Susannah was grinding fresh cinnamon and dusting it over her plates as she went...

“NINE!”

Saccharin gave his dish a little practice pat with a silicone spatula. It wiggled and jiggled, Saccharin happily gurgling at the sight.

“EIGHT!”

Matvey shoved one of the human students out of the way. The spot that they were attempting to place their shitty little shortcake would be the perfect stage for his gift to the pastry world.

The entire kitchen quaked from Chef stomping a foot down. “Away from your tables! NOW!”

And it wasn't like everyone had a choice. Not tossed around the kitchen like they were from the quake. 'This isn't like the orientation video at all.' Silas signed to no one in particular.

Chef walked to the round display table standing in the center of the room. Even with some of them covered by silver or plastic, the spread of succulent sweets and decadent desserts was a little more than a mouthwatering survey.

Chef stopped in front of a platter of petite-fours. The sneer pushed through once more. “Whose is this? Step up!”

One of the other students stepped forward. Silas flicked out the tip of his tongue. As far away as he was, he could taste the sweat beading down the side of their face.

Chef glared down at the human. “This yer idea of a joke?”

The student gulped, their eyes looking everywhere but the elf's face, “I... I... I just...”

Chef rolled his eyes. He pulled a silver fork from his pocket and let everyone take a look. “Taste your dishes with silver utensils. Clean them between tastes so ye don't get any cross-contaminants.” He looked around. “Write this down!!”

Ballpoints and graphite feverishly tore against paper while fingers and claws pounded against glass screens. Chef dug his fork into the pastel pink petite-fours. He cut away two pieces, one of which was promptly crushed underneath his fork with a little bit of effort. “Your fondant is as hard as day-old cum on a sidewalk.”

The student's eyes ballooned. “I--”

Chef quickly wiped his fork and lifted the other piece to his mouth. He chewed once. Twice. Let the flavor rest upon his tongue. “You can't mix worth shit and your jam was sour.”

You could have heard a gnat steal some flour; the room was so stunned. Particularly the poor student who could only stand there in shock as Chef moved on.

***

Tears. Aborted shouts. And more stunned silences.

Silas didn't understand. All of the desserts and sweets on the table looked fine to him. Amazing feats of pastry and sugar; mastery of edible art.

All seen as amateur garbage in the eyes of their professor.

Silas's heart was digging a chasm into his chest. He wanted to run. To slither away like the pitiful python he was. His poor pitiful confectioneries couldn't stand up to this level of pressure.

Susannah didn't even wait to be called when she noticed Chef lumbering towards her dish. “That,” She said, with a hand on her hip, “Is my Grandmama's Lafayette Layover Bread Pudding.” She folded her arms. “Go on, take a bite.”

“Don't need yer permission.” Chef frowned and wiped down his fork. He pressed it into the sweet, warm, gooey combination of gooey bread and syrupy custard. Chef took a bite. Susannah waited. “This tastes like shit.”

Susannah slammed her hands onto the table: several desserts jostling and clanking together. “I think  _you_  have shit  _taste_! No one bad-talks my Grandmama's cooking while  _I'm_  around!”

Chef pushed Susannah aside and moved onto the next dish, leaving the woman fuming so hard that her cheeks were matching her blouse.

“Matvey!” Chef called out, “What am I about to choke down here?”

The Matryochik puffed himself up. “Only the finest bit of Russian cuisine imaginable. I present...” Matvey lifted the cover from his dish. It was a perfectly rounded cake that was enrobed in a chocolate marble finish. The crowning pieces were the birds carved from chocolate dancing the Cossack on top. They had an accordion and little hats and everything.

“Ptichye Moloko!” All of Matvey's parts crowed out for one and all to hear. “'Bird's Milk Cake', for all of you westerners.”

Chef pressed his fork into the cake and pulled free a hefty piece of feathery cake topped with a mountain of thick cream and, of course, that flawless chocolate coating.

Over the lips it went.

Silas looked down at the cream in Matvey's dessert. It looked delectable. Nowhere near as mouthwatering was Susannah's dish but, still.

“Terrible.” Chef gruffed out.

Matvey clenched his jaw but nodded. “Of  _course_ , uchitel. Thank you.”

Chef lifted up the cover of another plate and revealed... well, a concise little clusterfuck. We're talking an in-scale, though miniature, replica of the Arc de Triomphe, with a fountain spouting stars and sprinklers behind it...

All made of blue, cream, and red gelatin.

Saccharin bounced and wiggled behind Chef. He gurgled, “So... What do you think~?”

“Think I'm getting too old for this shit.” Chef replaced his silver fork with a silver spoon. It sank into the corner of Saccharin's dessert and he slowly slurped it up.

He swallowed. “You all are such huge disappointments to me. This tastes like a piece of shit did a daisy-chain with another piece of shit who was also fingerblastin' away at a donkey's anus!”

Saccharin wilted a little. But he perked right back up.

“I got the longest response!” He gurgled joyously.

Chef scoffed and walked to the last dessert that he had to taste that day.

“Panna Cotta.” Chef ran the tip of his spoon around the plate. “Something simple for a simple mind?”

Silas quickly signed, 'That's not what I--'

“Stop flailing about, ya twice-dicked nimrod.” Chef sliced through the creamy hill cloaked in a berry-flavored flood. Past the gums it went, melting over Chef's palate.

Silas leaned forward. 'W-well? What do you think?'

Chef dropped his spoon back into his pocket. He scratched at his belly. He combed his unkempt fingernails through his beard.

Chef seized the plate and flung it at Silas, whose tail just barely wound around him to take the brunt of the hit.

“YOU'RE ALL WORTHLESS!” Chef roared. “IDIOTS! Every single one of you! Why the Culinary Board decided to let you all in here is beyond me because there ain't a talented mite amongst the lot of ya!!”

Chef stomped down hard, the kitchen lurching to the left and sending everyone and their desserts flying. “Why?! WHY AM I FORCED TO SUFFER ALL OF YOUR SHIT COOKING?!”

The weight of the room plummeted with every shout. Eyes looked for any available exit as last wills were mentally scribbled.

Silas shut his eyes and rehearsed the discussion we would have with his mother later about his coming home –

His tongue flicked out and tasted the air. Toasty... Syrupy-sweet... Creamy...

'Caramel?' He looked around. The other nonhuman students in the room joined him in searching for the sultry, teasing scent of luxurious caramel.

Chef moved like a whip. “Get out!” The doors to the kitchen opened up, “Out! All of ye! Go to lunch, go fuck, whatever! Just get your miserable asses out of here and don't come back for an hour!”

No one moved. Confusion and the fear of being the next one to draw Chef's ire.

Susannah took one of her painted nails between her teeth. She looked at the ruined table, then to the floor.

She got herself off of the floor and dusted herself free of flour and whipped cream.

“So...” She stepped up to Chef, “Are you gonna admit that my Grandmama's bread-pudding was amazing yet?”

Chef drew his head back, snapping forward with a roar. “GET OUT!!”

The words were said with so much force that Susannah's hair was blown back and it stayed that way even as everyone made their way out of the room like a landslide down a mountainside.

Chef waited, waited until his pointed ears could hear his...  _students_  far down the halls. “You cut that way too close.” He said as he stood in the center of the empty kitchen.

The floor grew sticky and tacky. A golden brown ooze seeped in between the seams between the tiles and the walls. A sweet smell soon overcame the air in the room: sugar and vanilla thickening the air.

Chef was still as the warm touch of slender fingers seeped into his shoulder.

A chuckle from behind. “You, my  _big_  strong elf, are going to burst a vessel like this.”

Chef rolled his eyes. “If only it would kill me.” He listened to a pair sticky footsteps walk through his kitchen classroom.

“There's a lot of talent this time around.” The other voice said. A plate met a shattering end against the floor. “ _Raw_  talent.”

Chef sighed, “It'll take every second of the next two and a half years to teach these shitheads how to temper chocolate, let alone make actual desserts.”

“And yet...” Chef closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of the other to press up against his front; to melt into his clothing, “You take it upon yourself to dig into the filth of this world to find the best ingredients to keep our art going. You care, my big strong elf. Even with how much you pout your face up.”

Chef scowled. “Eat my dick.”

“The next time I sleep over, I'll be on my knees with bells on.” A cavity-inducing was pecked against Chef's lips. “Now, I have to get out of here before I start melting into the foundation. I brought the things you wanted. You should divide them up before calling the students back.” Another sticky kiss. “You have my number. Though,” A chuckle, “The rumbling of your stomach is the far better signal for my company.”

Like a flash of light the caramel, the second premise, and all evidence leading to the two had vanished.

Chef opened his eyes and tugged his beard back into place. He didn't need to... But Chef looked down at his stomach. 

 

 

“I should cut down on the sweets.”

***

Silas's eyes looked over his tail. He hoped that there wouldn't be any bruising left from that plate. That was the  _last_ thing that he needed his mother to see.

He thought back to what had happened in the classroom. Did he really know how to bake? Maybe Zach and the others were humoring him. Mira and Odysseus constantly told him his baking tasted like shit.

His chest contracted.

'I wonder how much a ticket back home to the nest would be.' He sighed and resigned himself to look into it.

“Hey honey.”

Silas looked up from his moping when Susannah strolled over. “C'mere, honey.” She hopped up onto the nearest table and sat down. She patted her lap and, upon seeing the naga tilt his head, she had to fold her arms and pout, “Boy, if you don't come  _on_!”

If Silas had hair it would have stood on end. He slithered over.

'I-it's alright, you don't have to... do...'

Soft hands. They danced over Silas's tail and Susannah let out a low whistle at how Silas's scales danced between diamonds, rounded shapes, and squares underneath her fingertips. “Doesn't look like anything's too out of place. No bleedin', no scratches...”

No, nothing was out of place from the assault in the kitchen. Just Silas's dignity. It was one thing to be close to a figment of beauty like Susannah, but for her to be touching his tail like it was nothing? Silas feverishly adjusted his apron in case they had a pair of unexpected appearances today.

“You're gonna be fine, honey.” Susannah told him, “Trust me: I've had more than my fair share of plates thrown at me. The healing goes along pretty fast.”

Silas could only nod. He didn't trust his claws to properly sign anything resembling words right there and then.

***

When class resumed and everyone filed back into the kitchen-classroom, they were confused to see white culinary boxes in front of their seats. Chef hawked a huge loogie into the trashcan near him. “Sit down, all of ye. Don't want to waste more time than I already am with you. Unless yer blind, you can see the boxes in front of you. You'll spend the rest of your time under my learnin' as teams of two. Each of ya won't just bee responsible for honing your own skills,” Chef turned on the oven closest to him, “You'll be keeping an eye out and makin' sure your partners don't fall behind.”

Chef stopped. “Open your boxes. NOW!”

Everyone tore the lids from their boxes. Silas took a short breath. He lifted out a saffron culinary uniform from his box. The embroidered Keebalah Tech logo on the right lapel, the matching hat...

It was wonderful.

Silas tore out of his admiration for his clothes and looked around.

All of Matvey's parts were groaning: the purple uniform in his rounded hands matching the purple uniform Saccharin was waving about in his sticky feelers.

A noise from next to him got Silas's attention. Susannah was busy frowning at her... saffron... uniform. Silas shrunk into himself. He didn't want to be a burden onto her, he just –

“I look  _terrible_  in yellow!” Susannah looked to Silas with a wink, “Guess something's telling us that we need to stick together through this, honey.”

“ _Come off it._ ” Chef lumbered by and jerked a thumb in Silas's direction, “He won't open his mouth,” He pointed to Susannah, “And you won't shut  _yours_. That's all there was to it.”

Silas and the others watched Chef walk back to the front of the kitchen-classroom. Chef slammed his fist against the counter. The oven popped open and spat out a large caramel cookie replica of the school. “We will meet for class three times a week. Your uniforms are to be cleaned and pressed accordin' to the enclosed instructions.”

“Chef!” Someone raised their hand. “What if our box didn't come with instructions?”

“Then yer shit outta luck!” Chef barked back. “Now, all of ye get the hell on home! Do whatever ye need to prepare for our next class. But you'd better be ready to learn. Now, get!”

***

Silas's whole body ached by the time he made it home to 1685. “Hey Silas.” Periwinkle greeted him, the doorfairy contorting his body into some impossible yoga pose.

'Hey.' Silas let himself in. Nephubos was on the floor of the main room, his eyes scanning through a large textbook. Abelard's door was shut but he could hear noise from Abelard's library. Finally, Zach was in the kitchen. The human was cutting at a slab of pork. His phone was playing a recipe in slow-mo next to him.

Zach felt a new presence in the room. He turned down his phone volume and saw Silas. “Oh. Hey.” He set the knife down and wiped his hands on his pants. “How was school?”

Silas... Didn't know. Between the air-tram ride, his angry professor, and his shattered self-esteem, he just felt so  _drained._

'It...' He began.

'I-it...' His mouth couldn't keep a straight line as he lowered his head.

 

 

 

'It was great.' He lied.


	13. A Murder in ShimmerGale




	14. The Blood Bears Fruit

* * *

 

 

“Do you need lunch money or anything?” Abelard couldn't help it: once a parent, always a parent.

Nephubos shook their head.

_'We will be fine! Zach and Silas packed an assortment of edible things called a...'_  The bleb pulled out their notebook and read out,  _'Lauunch... box'!'_

Abelard nodded, “Well, I'm sure your lunchbox will be very delicious. Now, young one, if you need anything be sure to call either Zach or myself. Alright?”

Nephubos nodded.  _'Yes Mr. Abelard. Bye~!'_

Abelard kept his car idle. He watched Nephubos roll along the university courtyard in their little wagon until they were out of sight.

Abelard nodded to himself. “Right. Off to work.”

***

The wendigo kept to the speed limit all the way down the 190 freeway. Even when he saw that a wanyudo was attempting to merge into traffic and once the fiery wheel did, the flow of traffic was going to come to a complete stop. But there was no use in getting a ticket on his first day of work. What kind of example would he be setting? No, he would just suffer through this.

A creature his age had to show maturity, patience, and level-headedness.

Abelard lasted all of ten minutes before he slammed his hand against the horn.

***

A police car swept through the busy road. It took a swift left into the gated parking lot that surrounded the towering structure of blue brick and lapis lazuli trim.

“Dama Fristad Police Station.” Abelard slowed his car down, taking in the sight of police cars coming and going, of mermaid officers swimming up through the waterways that led to the guarded building. Abelard glanced down at his watch, nodding, “With twenty-five minutes to spare.”

Abelard turned into the same road that other police cars had turned into. He floored the brakes when the barricade was brought down in front of him. He blinked and, with some effort, popped his head out of his window. “Excuse me? Young one?”

“Mm?” Was the response of the mermaid officer that was stuck on security guard duty that morning. Though with how she was texting away at her phone, Abelard wasn't sure how much security she was actually providing.

“I'm actually due to clock in. First day.”

Without even looking up from her phone, the mermaid officer asked, “Do you, like, have your badge?”

Abelard's eyes didn't flare up with short-lived blue flames. No, of course not. The wendigo knew better than that.

“... No.” He began, “As I said before, today is my first day. I need to get inside so I can get said badge.”

“No badge,” The mermaid officer swiped across her phone screen, “No entry. Sorry. You can go around the corner to get to the civilian entrance though.”

Abelard only had so much patience when it came to young creatures who never learned their manners.

***

Abelard parked near the middle portion of the parking lot. Better not to be too callous and park too close to the station, but he didn't want to park too far and have to spend too much time walking.

The wendigo stepped out of his car, briefcase in hand, and took a second to examine himself in the reflection of the shiny green paint.

His suit was still pressed and free of lint. He tugged his gloves a bit so that they met the cuffs of his sleeves.

He pulled a hairbrush out of his briefcase and made quick work of his hair and beard. Once his glasses were adjusted, he nodded to his reflection and was on his way: ignoring the smoke coming from the charred security booth.

***

Abelard slipped into a group of officers and employees filing into the police station. It was only the slightest bit humiliating, sneaking around like this. But it was just until he got his badge.

The inside of the DFPS filled out every nook and cranny of the space one expected from the scale of the building's exterior. Four floors, not counting the basement which held the jail cells or the roof which hosted the tarmac and the launchpad.

Several waterways criss-crossed throughout the station for the mermaid officers. There was even a waterfall for them to swim up in order to get to the higher floors.

Abelard ducked as a Minokawa swept through the air: several boxes held in his mighty talons. “Donut and dango delivery!” He called out as he tossed the boxes down to the officers waiting in the cafeteria.

Abelard shook his head with a chuckle. “I guess that stereotype rings true for humans and nonhuman officers alike.”

He walked over to the receptionist's desk and got in line behind a vampire officer who was looking a little uncomfortable under the collar.

“Come  _on_ ,” He groaned, “I need to approve my hours before my SPF 9000 wears off!”

“Why didn't you approve them on your last shift?” The receptionist asked, the vampire groaning again,

“I spent the whole night shift writing tickets that I needed to process before leaving! I would think that you would understand how someone could get distracted! Now,  _please..!_  Can you approve my hours so I can go back to Necronia before I turn to ashes and die?!”

The receptionist drummed their fingernails against the counter for a second. They whipped their chair around to the second computer on the counter and typed something in. “And...” They hummed, “Done. I'm thinking pastrami on whole wheat this time around.  _Don't forget~!_ ”

“Oh, I'll see you in hell.” The vampire groused out right as he dissolved into a swarm of bats and flew out of the station.

When Abelard walked up to the counter, the receptionist looked up at him.

“You're a new face. Dressed pretty nicely, too.” They hummed.

Abelard nodded. “I'm actually going to be working here as of today.”

“Oh, the new researcher!” The receptionist typed something in on the first computer. “Okay...” They spun their chair around, “Chief's up on the fourth floor. Careful, though, I think he might be feeling a bit colicky.”

Abelard didn't want to go any deeper into the rabbit hole that the receptionist was digging. He thanked them and walked over to the stairs.

He wasn't so old that he needed the escalator or the elevator, thank you.

Though, by the time he reached the top of the second flight of stairs, Abelard was beginning to regret his life choices.

“I...” He grumbled to himself, “Refuse... to do... extra cardio...”

A passing officer stopped and asked, “Sir, do you need some help with the stairs? Actually, there's a perfectly good elevator just over ther--”

“No, no!” Abelard panted, “It's fine! I'm fine! Thank you for your concern!”

***

The bubbling pond of freshwater and swaying reeds signaled Abelard's arrival on the fourth floor. The melding of technology, modern interior design, and the ebb and flow of nature was seamless.

Abelard's briefcase swayed as he walked along the stainless steel bridge suspended in the sublime waters.

Several fronds of cattails, dotted in spots and beginning to fluff out, caught the corner of his eye.

He knelt down to inspect one of them, holding out his hand as he did. A crackle of electricity and a heavy tome appeared in it.

The wendigo let the book flip through its pages, fluttering and flapping. It landed on a charcoal sketch of the very same spotted cattails. “Cheetah Paw Cattails,” Abelard read out, “'Edible counterparts to their smaller, plain cousins. Good source of fiber and Vitamin B'. Interesting...” He looked around before plucking several of them: dropping them into his briefcase.

A soft chime echoed from the elevator as it descended down from the roof.

When it opened, three forms squeezed out. The dragon Lieutenant Gasko, the phoenix Inspector Ruan, and the Karasu-Tengu Captain Oshiro all sighed in relief when they pulled out. “I'm going to incinerate the meshugenah who decided that the elevator is big enough...” Lieutenant Gasko growled, steam spiraling out of her nostrils.

“Commissioner Cruickshank.” Captain Oshiro addressed the pond. He walked along the steel bridge-work to keep his feathers dry, Gasko and Ruan following him in single file; the bridge-work wasn't that wide.

The surface of the pond rippled. It bubbled, it splashed. The waters broke with a matted black head forcing their way through. The dark equine form pulled himself the rest of the way through. His woefully matted mane hung low to the surface of the pond. His coat was dark as ink spreading through clean water. Over his chest, the equine creature was wearing a DFPF vest: medals displayed proudly despite how they were dripping.

The kelpie opened their blacker-than-black plate-wide eyes and snorted. “You're late.”

“Apologies, sir.” Inspector Ruan, “We got caught up helping with that pile up over and Ladyfinger Avenue.”

Commissioner Cruickshank shook his head with a nicker. “Don't give me excuses. When I tell you all to get your asses down here you damn well better listen! Especially with everything that's going on right now, I need my elites on hand!!”

“Sir.” Oshiro, Gasko, and Ruan nodded. Commissioner Cruickshank clip-clopped over the water. “Can't believe I had to wake up to something like this. As if managing this police force isn't enough of a tax on my heart, now I --”

Commissioner Cruickshank tore into a gallop when he noticed a new face on the fourth floor. The kelpie looked Abelard up and down, finally neighing, “Who the  _hell_  are you?!”

“Abelard Von Baumgarten. Your new Non-Human Research Analyst?” Abelard offered his hand for a shake. Just to have it ignored by the Commissioner.

“I don't have time for this!” Snarled the chief, “I've got an elf rotting in the morgue, a station full of idiots, and I know that Trillium the Fair's gonna tear into my ass once he hears that someone gutted one of his wards!”

The kelpie whipped around, mane and tail sending droplets of water everywhere. “None of you better say anything to the Press until we have a suspect! Do I make myself clear?!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Oshiro, Gasko, and Ruan stood up at attention and saluted.

“Commissioner?” Another officer jogged into the area. “Forensics are ready to discuss the body.”

Commissioner Cruickshank nodded. “Okay. Okay, the three of you.” He noticed Abelard once more. “Actually, all of you: get out of my office. Solve this case. Make yourselves fucking useful. Dismissed!”

Commissioner Cruickshank leapt back into the pond. Once the Commissioner was gone, the weight on the three elite officers visible left their shoulders.

“He needs to calm down before he gets Colic or something.” Ruan wiped a wing over his brow.

Gasko walked over to Abelard. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves better. I am Rebekah Gasko.” The pink dragon spoke.

“Guang Ruan's the name.” The phoenix chirped. Finally, Captain Oshiro said,

“My first name is Izumi.”

Abelard took in the new information. “An upstanding group of young people. I wish that we were introduced under better circumstances. That and I wish that I had a badge...”

***

The Dama Fristad Police Station morgue was kept well into freezing. It was more a security measure for the bodies of the deceased, especially since there could be so many different kinds.

Izumi wrapped more of his scarf around his neck as they walked into the quiet, stainless steel space. Even the display screens on the walls were prone to icing over: some poor sap always having to come in to shave the ice away.

Rebekah, of course, had her internal flame to keep her warm and Guang  _was_  a phoenix. Abelard opened one of his books. The pages flipped and turned until they landed on a picture of a warm summer day in a strawberry field.

The subtle warmth wrapped around him just as a voice spoke up, “Ah, I have been expecting you! Come, come!”

They watched a snow-white mountain doe with large curved horns of gold tip-toe around a table. “Zere is much to discuss.”

“Have you discovered anything about the body?” Izumi asked, the deer humming and walking to the center table that was covered in a sheet. She took the sheet in her teeth and gave a tug. The sheet fluttered away. Rebekah and Abelard flinched at the sight. The body of the elf had faded: worn like aged paper. Grey veins webbed over her skin and her lips had weathered to a sickly blue. Her eyes were sunken in behind their lids. Undressed as she was, the causes of her demise were visible: the deep slices into her abdomen and the two gashes across her neck.

“Whoever did zis,” The zlatorog doe said, “Wasn't just doing it out of sudden rage or spite. I am just flummoxed: I can not figure out what matter of human or beast could have done it.”

Guang hopped closer to the examination table. “A ghoul?”

“Nein, nein...” The deer shook her head, “They only attack humans. Besides, they would have eaten most of her if they did it.”

Rebekah glanced at the body. She tried measuring the distance between slashes. “A Mantida?”

The zlatorog clicked a hoof against the floor. “Zat's what I was thinking! I need to measure and examine a bit more, but you see...” She walked close to the body and moved away some of the elf's pale pink hair. You had to take a second and third glance but you would eventually see them: the vibrant branches slowly seeping up any sparkling, congealed blue elfblood and extending forth. “She is already becoming one with the earth.”

“It wasn't a Mantida.”

Everyone looked to the source of the words to see Abelard holding that heavy tome. The pages were rapidly flapping and switching, the wendigo's eyes following every word and picture as they rushed by.

The zlatorog huffed. “And who do you zink you are to say such zings?”

Abelard didn't respond, so Guang stepped in, “He's our new Research Analyst. Interesting guy.”

The book came to an abrupt stop and Abelard rushed to the side of the corpse on the table. “The typical Mantida has a slicing span of two feet, because their arms are so long and their blades so long. Now, if a Mantida decided to attack this poor creature, it very well could have...”

“But there would only be one slash.” Izumi concluded. “But then that brings up the question of what direction we should be looking into.”

Abelard slammed the book shut. “Do you three have any ideas on your initial interrogations?”

“But of course.” Rebekah nodded, Guang adding,

“When a wife or girlfriend goes missing, you have to interview the husband or boyfriend.”

 

_36 Gelfing Boulevard_

_ShimmerGale District, 3:45 PM_

 

After waiting for Abelard to find a place to park, the three elite officers and the wendigo walked up to a tree that had been grown into the shape of a mansion. Five stories, at least thirty rooms: a symbol of opulence from the golden fence in front to the attached spring in the back.

“Geez...” Guang sighed, “Feel like I would have to take out a loan just to take a crap here.”

“Shush!” Rebekah warned him as Izumi and Abelard walked up the porch steps. Abelard did the knocking and, though it took a minute, a human doorman eventually opened up.

“May I  _help_  you?” They asked, nose turned up oddly high for a glorified gofer.

Izumi bowed and replied, “I'm Captain Oshiro of the Dama Fristad Police Force. This is Inspector Ruan, Lieutenant Gasko, and Baumgarten-sensei.” Truth be told, with that last address Izumi panicked a bit on an internal scale. He had no idea how to refer to Abelard and reverted back to elementary matters of address.

Abelard wanted to question it but they had other matters. Especially that of the doorman clearing his throat in that obnoxious way where it seems like someone is trying to gather all the mucus and phlegm that their body has ever produced in the history of existing up into one slow-moving sluice.

“Do you have business with Sire Maple or Dam Ivy?” Said the doorman, “Because Young Pine Needle isn't seeing guests today.”

Rebekah stepped forward. “We're investigating the circumstances of the elf Berry's death. We just want to ask a few questions.”

The doorman still wasn't in the mindset to humor the collection of Non-humans at the door. His nose had gotten comfortable being stuck up in the air where it was.

Ruan rolled his eyes and asked his coworkers, “So, Izumi, do you and  _Siklon_  have any plans tonight? Or what about you, Rebekah? How's  _Rabbi Abraham_  doing today?”

Abelard turned to see Rebekah rubbing her temples and Izumi blushing so furiously it was burning through his feathers.

The doorman opened his mouth but the only words that rang out came from behind him.

“Quit causing trouble for our...  _distinguished_  guests and their plus-ones.”

“Let them in.”

The doorman sniffed at the order but followed it dutifully.

Abelard and the elite officers walked into the main parlor of the home and found themselves at the bottom of two staircases that swayed in the breeze. Lightning bugs rested in great numbers along the rails, illuminating the space.

 

“Our home is  _always_  welcomed to the most distinguished of guests.”

On the top of the left staircase stood an older male elf with amber hair.

 

“Please forgive our doorman. He's only human.”

On the right staircase, an older female elf with green hair.

 

They both slowly descended the stairs: dressed in finery and gems. When they reached the bottom, the doorman announced, “Sire Maple and Dam Ivy.”

“Thank you for letting us into your home.” Rebekah bowed her head, “We're here to ask a few questions. About Ms. Berry?”

Sire Maple shook his head. “A terrible happening for this household.”

But Dam Ivy scoffed and looked away, “Damn that aggravating child. Look at all the trouble she's gotten us into now.”

Dam Ivy turned back to the group and saw Abelard looking directly at her; trying to figure her out.

“Anyway,” Sire Maple said, “The last time we heard from her was when she left to go to her... Pilates class. We unfortunately don't have any more information.”

Guang brought out a notepad from his pocket and jotted everything down. “What's the name of the Pilates studio?”

“Oh, we don't know.” Dam Ivy scoffed, Sire Maple adding,

“She had the annoying habit of talking a mile a minute. We could never keep track of anything she said.”

Izumi looked around the parlor. He just needed to find something he could expand into a conversation. Some source of evidence.

“ _Berry_...”

Out from the western wing came a new face. Another elf, younger than Maple and Ivy, with short, deep green hair; hair that hadn't seen a comb in days. Even his face was overcome with grassy stubble. He was dressed in nothing more than a stained bathrobe, his hands clutching onto a small potted berry tree.

“Pine Needle!” Dam Ivy hissed, “Get back into your Mourning Room this instant! You're unwell!”

But Pine Needle didn't listen to his mother. He saw the strangers in the main room, eyes ballooning when he noticed their badges. “You!!” He stormed over, “Have you found them yet?! The bastards that took my Berry from me!!”

“Well...” Guang whistled around the pen in his beak, “You see, we – No. We were just assigned to the case and we wanted to ask some questions. When was the last time you talked to your girlfriend?”

Pine Needle threw his head back, an agonized roar tearing from his lips and a wash of Pine tree branches surging up from the polished floors.

“FIANCEE!!” He screamed, “FIANCEE! SHE WAS MY FIANCEE!!” A deep breath had all of the Pine branches melting back into the floor. “How are you going to arrest the bastard who did this if you can't even call Berry by what she was to me?!”

“Pine Needle!” Sire Maple seethed out, “Calm yourself! You're looking woefully unrefined already!”

“If I might.” Abelard stepped forward, “Young one, I know your grief: having the person that fills your heart from brim to brim torn away from you. You probably feel as though the fairer half of your soul has withered away and the only thing keeping you sane is that tree in your arms.”

Something warm grabbed Abelard's arm. It was Guang, the phoenix whispering into where an ear would be, “No offense, but Ix-nay on the oul-crushing-say espair-day!”

Abelard tugged himself away, “But the best course of action, the best means of respecting your love's passing--”

“ _RESPECT?!”_  Pine Needle shouted, the floor beginning to bristle, “You think that you can come to me, in my own parents' house, and talk to me about respect during a time like this?!” Pine Needle huffed, shaking his head, marching over to glare up at Abelard, “The gall in your words. The...  _sheer_  level of pompous ignorance.  _Respect?!_  I  _pleaded_  with Akeldama,  _begged,_  to let the Grim Reaper give Berry back to me, even as a spirit. THAT would have been the greatest respect she could have been given.” Pine Needle glared at the shadows that the small berry tree laid upon the floor. “ _Do you know what they told me_?!”

***

_Cold, grey waters poured into a ceramic cup enveloped in a ring of ice and a ring of smoke. When the cup was full, it keeled over and dropped its contents into the icy abyss below._

_**“You would deny your sweetheart the glory of Elfenheim? That's a little cruel, don't you think?”** _

_The cup filled up._

“ _She wasn't meant to go be taken from me so soon!! Please... She has so much more to do here. With me!!”_

_The cup tipped over, water spilling into the abyss._

_**“Mah... You're really bold. Listen: she has no unfinished business and she's already moved on. If you really want to see her again, wait until Remembrance Day. Now, if I were you I'd get out of here before your living breath starts to attract the wrong sort of company. My condolences for your loss, kid. But death really is just part two.”** _

***

Pine Needle growled. He seized the nearest chair in one hand and hurled it at the window.

“Pine Needle!” Sire Maple and Dam Ivy shouted. Izumi steeled himself; ready in case this turned into a domestic disturbance.

But Pine Needle merely reached into the branches of the berry tree. He tugged out a phone: glittery pink, a cracked screen, but still functional.

“If you understand  _anything_  about respect,” Pine Needle tossed the phone over, Abelard grabbing it, “Then you'll use that to get me something resembling justice for Berry. Now,” He clapped his hands once, the doorman opening the front door, “Get the hell out of my house.”

“You are pushing your limits, Pine Needle...” Sire Maple walked over to his disheveled son, “Go back. To. Your. Mourning Room.”

Pine Needle tightened his hold on the berry tree and returned his father's sour look. “You'll excuse me, father. But I never expected to have to turn my  _wedding_  into a  _wake_.”

***

The door slammed in their faces. “That could have gone better...” Izumi sighed, “Baumgarten-sensei, if you could please abstain from aggravating our witnesses from this point forward.”

“My apologies.” Abelard tried getting the phone to turn on, the screen not wanting to respond to his larger fingers, “But at least we have a lead. I – damn it,” The wendigo sighed, “I've never been good with newer technology.”

“Hand it over.” Guang held out a wing, quickly opening up the phone's menu and searching through Berry's files. “Let's see... Wedding, wedding, wedding – whoa, she played a lot of dress-up games.”

“Focus...” Rebekah growled.

Guang kept on until he found a video file labeled '#Bitchin'WeddingPlans. He clicked on it, the video buffering for a second.

“By Trillium the Fair's sun-kissed hair~!” Berry shrieked, “Like, OMG, Pine Needle proposed to me at dinner last night. Can you even believe it?! Look at this rock, though~!” She flashed her hand, a golden band with Elvish runes and an obnoxiously large padparascha in the center.

“That ring was not on the body.”

Guang nodded, “I'll have to put out an APB for all the pawn-shops in town.”

“So, like,” The video of Berry continued on. The elf gave a flip of her hair, “This wedding is going to be, like, totes off the chain! I'm going to kick it up a notch at Pilates so I look extra hot on my wedding day~ Also, Piney-baby already set me up appointments with Harun,  _the_  Harun, for my dress and Cara Mellice, like  _UBER-EXCLUSIVE CARA MELLICE_ , for the cake!  _AH!_ ”

The group covered their ears from the piercing screech from the phone.

“OMG,” Berry said, “I have to call Bubble and give her the deets~  _KYA~! I'M GOING TO BE A BRIDE, CAN YOU EVEN?!_ ”

The video came to an abrupt halt, Berry's excited face forever frozen in data and time. “Who is Cara Mellice?” Abelard asked, “I've at least  _heard_  of Harun's boutique.”

“He's the most exclusive baker in all of Dama Fristad, if not, the world.” Izumi explained, “Pine Needle really was ready to spare no expense for his wedding.”

“And that face is not the face of a creature who would murder their beloved.” Rebekah added.

“Well,” Guang turned off the phone, “Let's get this phone back to Evidence. We need to submit a request for a multi-location Search-Warrant too.”

 

_1685 Blightblossom Lane_

_Dama Fristad Center Court, 6:32 PM_

 

“Hey Abe – whoa.” Periwinkle stopped combing his feelers when Abelard walked to the door. The exhaustion in the wendigo's frame was blatant. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” Abelard nodded. He dug into his briefcase for his keys and shoved them into the lock.

As soon as the door was opened, he all-but collapsed in. He closed the door behind himself and braced himself up against it, harsh breath raking through his skeletal face.

What was this weight that was pressing down on his chest? Was this condo always this hot?

Abelard's breathing was terribly labored. A desperate attempt to ease the strain, he fumbled his fingers with the buttons of his jacket, finally tearing the garment away from himself.

Whereas his head couldn't sweat, the hard muscles of his arms bore the brunt of the dampness over the darkened skin.

“Abelard?”

Abelard gasped, straightening himself up and adjusting his tie. Zach stepped out from the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl. Though his face was almost as impassive as Abelard's own, the wendigo could sense the concern before the human spoke once more.

“How was work?” Zach set the bowl upon the counter, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, just your typical first day of introductions and orientations.” Why was he lying to this boy? Obviously he couldn't tell him about the murder, but there was no reason for him to completely fabricate nonsense.

Zach looked him over. “Okay.” Zach turned back around and grabbed the bowl. “I'm making dinner.”

The small swallow just barely knicked Abelard's hearing.

“That... sounds nice.” Abelard picked up his coat and walked to his library. “I just need to research a few things. Excuse me a moment.”

Abelard shut the door to his library. He needed to know. He had actually gone back to the morgue to examine Berry's body once more but he had come to the same vague conclusion.

Abelard walked down the winding stairs, books lining his path deep into the Earth. The deep breaths that left his skull mixing into the dust and mists surrounding his descent.

His feet finally came to the floor of his library that he needed. Abelard looked around the trove of tomes bound in dark leather and locked in iron or bone. Abelard held up his right hand and examined the silken fabric covering it.

It was quickly removed, Abelard flexing and relaxing a large, gnarled hand; each finger tipped in extending claws.

“You can see my memories.” He told the library, “You're lapping up everything I bore witness to today. Now, tell me!”

The uncovered, monstrous hand burst into flames the same brilliant hues of Abelard's eyes. It did burn, but after so many years Abelard had come to realize that true knowledge only came with pain.

“Show me the weapon that slaughtered that child!!”

The great library heaved and groaned, books sluicing off of the shelves and cracking against the floor. The flame tried to shift, a sharp hiss from Abelard making it go back to his hand.

He saw movement in the corner of his eye and held out his left hand. A metal-bound book, locked with chains, flew from a shelf and crashed into his hand.

Abelard crushed the flames out of existence. He tried to ignore the scent of burning flesh as he examined the tome with a verbal frown.

“But of course...” He sighed, wondering how long it would take to open it and get the answers he sought.  


	15. The Bloodied Harvest

* * *

 

 

The next morning Abelard was up and ready with the sun. Of course, the workspace in his library was now littered with the remains of explosions, the claw-marks that gouged into the walls, and the stench of a conflict.

Abelard walked to the kitchen. Silas was waiting on the edges, waiting for Odysseus to finish blending his protein shake.

Silas flinched upon seeing the Minotaur grab the carton of eggs from the fridge. 'You're really not going to use all of those eggs--' Into the blender they went. 'And you are. Of course.'

Odysseus turned the blender back on, noticing Silas's rapidly moving hands. “You say something, lizard-dick?”

Silas didn't even want to dignify that with a response.

“Good morning, all of you.” Abelard stepped into the kitchen and pushed Odysseus to the side: blender and all.

“Hey!”

“Silas, a cup of coffee please.”

Silas slithered in and started on the coffee, same recipe from yesterday morning. Abelard had seemed to like it well enough.

“I didn't get the chance to ask.” Abelard took the time to sift through his paperwork; to make sure that the book he was trying to open was safely nestled inside. “How was your first day of class?”

'Fine!' Silas quickly replied, 'Lots of new recipes and...'

“ _This seat taken?” Susannah batted those lovely, thick eyelashes up at him. “Honey?”_

'A-and nice people.' Silas slid the coffee over. 'Actually, I should get some practice in and--'

“Is double-dicks in the kitchen?” Mira called out as he bounced his chest into the main room. He ducked inside of his chest before pulling out his laptop and headphones. “Make me some cookies! I have an FPS tourney coming up and I need the carbs!”

Silas sighed. 'Guess I'm making cookies...'

Abelard chuckled and finished off his coffee. “Alright, I'm heading out. Does anyone need a ride anywhere? School? Gym? Slaughterhouse V?”

Everyone shook their heads, Silas signing, 'Nephubos is sleeping off his first day of school. I have no idea what everyone else is up to.'

Abelard gave a nod and made his departure. Not even a minute after, Zach walked in from the balcony. “Is Abelard still here?” He asked.

“He went to work.” Mira answered, eyes focused on his laptop screen.

Zach sighed, walking further into the room and picking up the remote off the table. He turned the TV on, the news displaying a breaking news story about a murder in ShimmerGale.

Zach sat down on the couch, shaking his head. “Damn it, Abelard.”

***

Abelard pulled up to the security booth, the mermaid on duty immediately letting him in. But Abelard didn't even get far into the station parking lot before Rebekah landed in front of his car. “Rebekah?” He asked, the dragon stepping around to the driver's side door.

“We need to get going.  _Now!_ ”

“Of course,” Abelard agreed, “Just let me park and --”

The dragon quickly shook her head. “No, we don't have the time!”

Abelard was confused but he grabbed his briefcase and stepped out of his car. He noticed that Rebekah had a saddle on her back: leather, sturdy.

“I'll explain when we meet up with Izumi and Guang. Hop on.”

She wanted him to ride her. The action seems almost disrespectful, but if the young dragoness insisted...

Abelard latched his briefcase onto Rebekah's side. He climbed onto the saddle and buckled himself into it. He was wondering if he should tighten his legs down until he saw the stirrups. “It's a full travel-harness.” Rebekah explained, “Make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

Abelard did just that. Rebekah broke into a run and jumped: flapping her wings and climbing into the air.

Guang and Izumi were already up above the station, wings keeping them in the air.

“Is everything alright?!” Abelard had to yell, the rushing air at their altitude making normal speech impossible.

Izumi gave a solemn shake of his head.

“Someone leaked the details of Berry's murder to the news!”

“ _What_?!” Abelard said, the horror in his voice accentuated by the volume. How... How had that happened? They were keeping everything on such a level of hush-hush that he wasn't even sure if he should have gone home last night.

“The Chief is folded over in rage about this.” Rebekah said, “We need to solve this case as soon as possible.”

“Baumgarten-sensei.” Izumi looked to Abelard. The wendigo saw the weight, the shadow in Izumi's eyes. “Where should go first? You did some more research after you left the station, correct?”

Abelard's mindset pulled itself together to focus upon the case. “Did you all find anything on Ms. Bubble?”

Yes, the friend mentioned in Berry's final video.

“About that...” Guang gave a nervous chuckle. “So, it seems as though Bubble and Berry were a bit of a cross-species Bestie duo. She's a Blue Fairy.”

“ _Scheisse_...” Abelard hissed under his breath. There wasn't going to be a Full Moon for another two weeks, let alone a Blue one. Abelard shook his head. “No use in focusing on our losses. How about the Pilates studio that Berry was going to?”

Izumi nodded, “Guang has the name. Is that our first destination?”

Abelard confirmed it and, with Rebekah making sure that he was situated well enough, they sped off towards ShimmerGale once more.

 

_Strongwood Studio_

_ShimmerGale District, 8:47 AM_

 

“Keep it up, ladies!” A fairy covered in thick, sweating muscles called out to his students as he passed them. He was followed by Izumi, Rebekah, Guang, and Abelard.

Abelard, who was trying to look at everything except for the younger, agile bodies surrounding them.

“Yeah, she was one of my students.” The fairy said, gossamer wings fluttering at his back before they folded against his back. “Though I really don't know why. She never participated in any of my activities. It was like she only wanted to be here so she could post online about it.”

 

You know,  _those_  assholes. Who make gyms unbearably crowded to the point that they're unusable? Hey, yeah, you lot who call yourselves 'fulfilling New Year's resolutions' and just use the gym for photo-ops for your social media –  _DON'T DO THAT! GOING TO THE GYM IS HARD ENOUGH WITHOUT Y_ \--

 

Everyone looked around for a moment. “I feel as though what we were doing was put on hold for a tangent just now.” Izumi stated.

“But, anyway,” The fairy gave a flip of his hair, “Saw her a few days ago when she came to class and did one set before plopping down next to me and talking for the rest of it.” He stopped to pick up a stray towel. “Is it true?” He turned around. “Someone really killed her? Seriously? Who kills an  _elf_? Who kills  _any_  fae, Trillium the Fair's probably hunting their asses down as we speak!”

Silence, only broken by music in the background, gave the answer.

“Fuck...” The fairy whistled, “Not that I blame whoever did it though. Shit...” He clutched the sides of his head, “Just thinking about that annoying voice is giving me a headache.”

“Oh!” Rebekah snatched Berry's phone and turned on her final video, “You mean  _this voice_?!”

“OMG!”

It was immediate: the fairy collapsing to the floor and convulsing.

“Which way did she go when she left?!” Rebekah snarled down at the fairy, “Tell me!!”

“Should...” Abelard cleared his throat. It seemed like the three of them had been pushed to the bleachers while Rebekah went on her rampage. “Should we step in?”

Izumi and Guang shook their heads. “This is where she shines.” Guang said.

It took three minutes. Rebekah walked back to the group. “She left the studio and walked due right.”

Abelard felt that the young creatures escorting him around the city (Let's be frank, that's what they were doing), were all powerful individuals. They were the elite police: the highest echelon of law enforcement in this city of beast and fancy.

Guang nudged the twitching fairy on the ground. “I think you traumatized him, 'Bekah.”

“Good.” She turned with a pout.

Children. Even with skill and cunning.

Izumi pointed his arm in the direction they had been given. He closed one eye, trying to focus. “Necessitated degree of motion located.” He announced, “Optimal speed should be a swift jog.” He lowered his arm down, “Let's go.”

Indeed, their feet did take them on a swift trip down what was assumed to be Berry's final walk.

“Wait!” Rebekah called out. She lowered her head to the moss and grass, sniffing and snuffling the surface.

Abelard wasn't inactive either. He knelt down and simply watched. Watched the breeze push and pull the blades of green.

He plucked a single blade and placed it in his mouth between sharp teeth and upon his tongue.

His expression would have soured if it had the muscles to do so.

“This grass is sweet.” Were his solemn words.

This was where Berry had been murdered.

“Not only that.” Rebekah lifted her head. “I'm getting hints of something else.” The dragoness had to think. “It's familiar. Nostalgic.” Her eyes shot open. “Indigo.”

 

_The Boutique of the Crystal Globe_

_Dama Fristad, 11:48 AM_

 

“ _NNNNOOOOOO_ _—HO-OH-HO~!!”_

Harun's Crystal Globe boutique was located where the borders of the center of Dama Fristad, ShimmerGale, and Miasmus met.

It was an older building that had been retrofitted with ivory towers, silver fountains, and strong threads hanging there and weaving about; to make it an appropriate bit of inspiration for the much-sought after tailor.

Harun himself was an Achroite Weaver. Looking much like a gem-encrusted tarantula standing as high as a bull elephant with just as much girth in his eight legs and abdomen. The group watched Harun sob and flit around his boutique in a panic.

“ _Why?!_ ” He screeched, all eight eyes clenched tight as negative thoughts careened through the arachnid's mind. “Why do these things happen to  _me_?!  _Allah_ , who's going to wear this dress  _now_?!”

Harun jumped over to his wine cabinet and grabbed several bottles. Another pair of arms seized an armful of pillows. And the third set picked up a bowl of giant beetle bonbons. He fell into his chaise-long, the piece crafted from silver spider's silk, and began sobbing more. “I saw the news this morning; I thought it was a hoax!  _Al'ama..!_ ” Harun grabbed three bonbons, devouring them with a crunch that bounced and echoed.

“So it's fair to say that you knew Berry?” Guang asked, the phoenix jotting things down once more.

Harun lamented. “Yes, I knew her. She and her fiance came to me for a one of a kind wedding dress. A dress to be the envy of every elf, fairy, and pixie in ShimmerGale. It would be made once and only once.” The giant spider pointed two hands towards the silken gown of pink layers and pastel green petticoats. There was even an accompanying flower crown to the ensemble, an anklet of the same design too. “And  _now_  look where I am!  _No one to wear it_!!”

Izumi walked over to the glass case. “It's beautiful.” The Karasu-tengu muttered, running a clawed hand over the front. “Surely someone out there would buy it.”

“No!” Harun downed a bottle of wine, “I never resell anything I create. Everything is one of a kind. Luckily I was paid in advance.” He groaned, “I'll tell you, this may have been one of my most annoying commissions.”

“Annoying?” Abelard asked, Harun continuing on,

“She was so indecisive! In fact,” Harun pulled his massive frame away from his seat and walked over to a pile of silk fabric rolls: each either a different shade of pink or green. “To color my silks, I have to eat something of the desired color in different measures. Do you know how many strawberries and spinach I had to eat because Berry couldn't decide what she wanted?!”

They could only imagine, with how much they knew about Berry by now.

Guang jotted down everything worth noting from the conversation, but he did have one more thing to ask. “Can you confirm that Berry also had an appointment with Cara Mellice?”

Harun sat back down. “Yes, she wouldn't stay quiet about that either.” The spider swooned into the chaise-longe. “If you all will excuse me, I need to mourn the loss of my exposure.”

 

_Sucre Descent_

_ShimmerGale District, 2:23 PM_

 

Even from the outside of the cathedral they approached, the scent of slightly burnt sugar was prominent. The cathedral, when one got closer, was made of not glass or ceramic but molten sugar sculpted into the sweeping shapes and curves of a monument of worship.

Abelard stepped to the door and saw the hanging velvet rope swaying by. He gave it a gentle tug and stepped back. Just in case the doors swept outward.

Nothing really happened, though. He listened, tilting his head.

Bubbling. Something was rising up from the delectable depths.

The speaker next to the door crackled to life. “Do you have an appointment?” Said the syrupy, velveteen voice.

“Well, no.” Abelard replied.

The speaker crackled up again. “Well, the unfortunate bit of it is that I can't let you all in.”

Guang rolled his eyes.

Abelard folded his arms, thinking over this current circumstance. “I see... Your home here is breathtaking.”

There was a gap of time before the speaker crackled. “Isn't it though? Every inch, every corner made out of pure sugar. Even my lovely fountain,” Izumi walked over to the boiling fountain pool that bubbled away at a distance, “Is a rotating mixture of every sweet thing this world has to offer.”

Abelard agreed, more confident now that he had a grasp of the figure behind the door's age. “I'm certain that even young Berry could appreciate the aesthetics of your abo--”

“That girl,” The speaker interrupted him, “Wouldn't know  _Callebaut_  from  _Nestle_. Sweet Lady Oleanda,” The speaker gave a low exhale, “What an annoying child. Do you know how many times I told her 'I don't allow photography of my work in my home', just for her to whimper and whine ad nauseum?”

Abelard felt as though that was all they were going to get from this. “Thank you for your time.” Abelard turned away, signaling to the others to get ready to leave.

“Abelard.”

The wendigo froze, one of his feet an inch off the ground. How had he... When had he..?

“You enjoy coffee-flavored things, though the typical caffeine level is just barely enough to keep that body of yours going. Your appreciation for the sweet is... notable but not prominent. I see.”

Abelard stayed in place.

“Did you know,” The speaker turned back on, “That a false Full Moon is just as effective at drawing a Blue Fairy as a real one?”

Abelard's pupils contracted for a brief second.

He tilted his head. “Thank you, Master Mellice.”

“Oh please,” The speaker crackled to life one more time, “A creature like you, appreciative of sweet architecture... You can call me Cara.”

***

 

_One cup of the essence of snow_

_The claw of a lycanthrope_

_Pumpkin seeds from a Princess's escape_

_The sole of a Witch's dancing shoe_

_A Capricorn's scale_

_And a mournful maiden's song_

 

It was one thing to ask the Chief for permission to carry the investigation into after-hours territory, but finding all of the ingredients to create a False Full Moon was a Herculian task in of itself.

But after a trip to the Midas Mills Mall downtown, they had just about everything.

Near ShimmerGale's edge, the edge that just barely kissed the beginning of Aquacia's regime, Abelard sat on the edge of the coursing river. There was a pot next to him: cast-iron, the size of a baby. And he was watching the evening skies: the sea of stars being rearranged every time some celestial beast would frolic through.

Izumi made his landing first. “We're all clear on my end, Baumgarten-sensei.”

“All quiet on the western-front.” Rebekah said as she landed.

Guang was the last back on the scene. “Came across some unruly Pegasi.” The phoenix coughed out some sparkly blue feathers. “But they kicked off as soon as I told them to beat it.”

Abelard went straight to work. He tapped a finger to the kindling he had bunched up underneath the pot, the wood sparking to life with that same foul fire.

He would have to destroy these gloves.

In went the claw, doused over by the essence of snow. Abelard worked quick to grind the pumpkin seeds, which were aged and tough, and the Capricorn scale into a powder that was quickly poured into the pot, The last thing added into the bubbling gruel was the Witch's sole and the maiden's song. Abelard turned his head away as he opened the jar: not wanting the melody to burrow into his hearing for a home.

When the miserable song drowned in the crisp, white muck, Abelard stepped back. “Now,” He retrieved a handkerchief from his pants pocket and cleaned off his covered hands, “We wait.”

By the time the concoction gave any sort of reaction, Guang had nestled into a fiery bundle for a nap and Rebekah was struggling to keep her eyes open. Izumi and Abelard were actively standing guard; actively watching, actively waiting.

The boiling broth belched out a shimmering pillar of dust. It climbed high up into the air, into the air above the trees and hills. Once it was high enough into the chilled evening sky, the dust started to hold itself tighter and tighter together. All of the chaotic elements that gave birth to it came together to form a tight ball. It was still shifting, still trying to come together. But the important part for those on the ground was the False Moon's light and how it reflected upon the water below.

The light of a Full Moon upon waters blessed by Trillium the Fair: one of the few things that could summon a Blue Fairy aside from the desperate cry of a child.

Though Abelard was beginning to have his reservations. The voice behind that speaker belied a subtle wisdom: one only attainable from centuries upon the earth. But was their advice what a situation like this needed? He only hoped he wasn't wasting time in this venture.

He didn't want to add to the tears. Tears that were becoming louder and louder with the light of the False Full Moon.

By now, Rebekah was fully awake: smacking her tail to the back of Guang's head to rouse him from slumber.

With the growing intensity of the False Moon, a figure could be seen floating over the river. Not necessarily floating, wings of glass were keeping her airborne. Her dress was a short cocktail number, though it was still the same shade of rich, ethereal blue that all of her kind were bound, by threat of death, to wear.

Her straight black hair was decorated by a simple ringlet of bubbles. An appropriate signal for her name.

It seemed the impromptu summon had caught Bubble at an off time: if the empty martini glass in her hand and her running make-up were any indication. The Blue Fairy was so distraught that she didn't even notice her surroundings

“Berry...” Bubble choked, burying her face in her palm, “ _Why?_  Why did this have to happen?!”

Well. This was awkward.

Guang looked to Rebekah who looked to Izumi who  _finally_  looked to Abelard. The wendigo looked upon the visage of the mourning fairy and decided.

He was the one who summoned her. He was the one who needed to talk to her.

“Young one?” He stepped forward, “Young one, please. If I could have your ear through your tears.”

Bubble fell to the mercy of the gasp that left her. She whipped her head around, very much a deer in the headlights. “Wh-what's going on? Wh-wh-where am I? Who are you?!”

Abelard gingerly made the introductions and gave Bubble a moment to breathe before asking, “Young one... We are trying to find out who is responsible for your friend's untimely demise.”

Bubble shook her head. “I don't understand. I just  _don't get it_! Berry was, like, annoying at times but who the  _fuck_  wasn't?! Is that enough to  _kill_  someone over?!”

There was that word again, Abelard thought.

“But I just...”

He looked up again to see Bubble looking at her phone. It had taken the place of her martini glass and she was looking at one of the last pictures she had with Berry: the Blue Fairy and the elf taking a selfie at a concert. “I just want to forget about all this. I keep hoping that this is some kind of  _fucked up_  dream and I'll wake up soon. That my phone will ring and it'll be Berry: talking about her Pilates instructor or the newest drink at her fav cafe...”

“I talked to her. The night she was murdered, I-I...” Bubble had to stop and steady herself: her wings threatening to lock up. “I heard everything..!”

“What?!” Guang squawked and Rebekah was about to charge at the Blue Fairy but Abelard held up his hand to stop them.

“Young one,” Abelard offered, “Why did you not inform the authorities? You know it is their job to protect --”

“Protect and Serve, I get it.” Bubble hissed out. Most unbecoming of a Blue Fairy's demeanor. “Maybe in most cases. But not with this. I...” She turned away, covering the her mouth as the tears began again.

Tears... of fear.

“I still remember his voice.” She shivered. “Berry's phone didn't turn off until the battery died, I heard everything... But you know what?” She laughed. A hollow, miserable laugh. “The thing that stayed with me the most? More than the sound of-of a blade cutting my friend apart, more than hearing her choke on her own blood? More than hearing her die and being too afraid to do something so fucking simple as calling for help? It was his voice!!” Bubble cradled her arms about herself, choking back a sob. “'Nothing personal in this. Just a matter of business; the daily grind'!”

Guang flapped his wings in a huff when something snapped in Abelard's briefcase. “What the hell?”

Abelard strolled over, unlatching his belongings from Rebekah's saddle. He had a feeling, but he didn't want to follow it.

Several sheets of paper had been torn by the heavy tome inside opening itself. Abelard gingerly took it out, mindful of the harsher edges.

“What is that?” Guang poked his head under Abelard's arm so he could look at the book.

“The answer to my earlier question.” Abelard said with a voice as heavy as the night long. “Izumi.”

The Karasu-tengu looked over.

“What is the fastest way to get to Necronia?”

***

The skies were always dark in Necronia, Dama Fristad's district of the dead. Of course, there were a few places one could find warm light and greenery.

And by 'a few', it is meant that there's 'one' and barely anyone has seen it.

The entire district is a mass graveyard: buildings falling apart save for the grace of the gods, ancient places of residency and familial bonds leaking the spiritual blood.

The air was dead. No plant-life grew anywhere on the main streets. Again, you could find them if you were willing to journey far enough into the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

“You know what's odd?” Guang whispered, “My mom would always tell me about Necronia. 'Don't be foolish enough to ever fly there!' Heh.” The phoenix chuckled. It didn't last long. “This is what it's like? Being cold, I mean.”

There was no pretense. No one wanted to go inside of the district. They all stood on the border between life and death.

A border that Abelard was too familiar with.

Abelard tugged on one of his sleeves. “If any of you would rather stay out here, I more than understand. I --”

Rebekah shook her head. “We've already come this far.”

“And we can't fly out of here.” Guang hopped over.

Izumi was the last to speak. “We wouldn't be the best of Dama Fristad has to offer if we chickened out now, sensei.”

They were so confident. Strong in word and stature. Even though he could feel their unease in waves.

“Alright.” Abelard looked straight ahead, ignoring the ring of warmth that one of his books surrounded all four of them with. “Don't look backwards. Don't leave the circle. And do not answer the whims of anyone we pass.”

Necronia had a level of civility amongst its morbid populace.

But not on the road that they were taking. They all kept their eyes on Abelard's back, finding it the easiest point of focus.

Izumi's father always taught him to master his fears: to crush them under his talons, to teach them their place. But, still...

_**“Don't wander too far into Necronia. I won't be able to keep all six of my eyes on you if you do...”** _

Rebekah's tail reached around to touch upon the Star of David sewn into her vest.

**“Are you trying to give me heart-attack?! Flying so close to the Death District! God, give me patience with this child!”**

Abelard walked on, not wanting to stay longer than they had to.

_'Help...'_

_'Please, stop.'_

_'So hungry...'_

Abelard clenched his jaw. He walked on.

_'I'm lost.'_

_'Just a second, can't you...'_

_'So cruel... so awful...'_

They just needed to round the next corner.

_'She's dying!'_

_'Just a penny for a loaf of bread...'_

_'I'M INNOCENT!!'_

Down the road. Just down the road.

_'You can't fight it--'_

_'Just give in--'_

_'It's warmer than you think--'_

Even the warmth of Abelard's magic was beginning to fail in the face of the shadows beyond mortal reach. A collection of spindly fingers teased at the edges of the circle.

Then they pulled at it.

_'Let us cut your threads--'-- we'll slit your throats so nicely--' 'It will be like falling asleep--' 'don't fight it...'_

Abelard kept his eyes on their destination. Just up ahead, the gates surrounding a compound of twisted remains of Georgian-era architecture.

Even with the shadowy depths still tugging at them, the broken last words tumbling after each other, Abelard managed to push the gates open. “Get in, all of you!!” He hissed to the three elite officers. When the three younger Nonhumans made it inside, Abelard yanked the door closed.

The swarm of dark spindling fingers crashed into the gate with the sound of a thousand cracking bones. It shouted, the din of a thousand final words twisted into a lone, miserable noise, but it did eventually move on.

“Why,” Rebekah panted, “Do I feel like our tsuris and troubles are just beginning?”

Abelard helped the dragoness to her feet as Izumi took a survey of the area.

“Where is everyone?” He whispered, mostly to himself, “Not a single creature around?”

“EEEYYYAAAHH!!”

Steel springs creaked and groaned as one body jumped from behind a chimney and landed on Rebekah's back. “Get on it, luv!” The figure cackled, long and high. He dug his steel heels, fastened the exposed muscle of his legs.

Rebekah bucked up against the assailant. She flapped her wings and even tried rolling over in order to get the tormenting figure off.

Two more shrieks. Izumi heard the chains before he could make evasive maneuvers: heavy chains that rapidly wrapped around his arms and legs.

Two more figures, just as warped, just as manic as the first, jumped down from the roofs with their own twisting braces upon their legs.

“Wot 'ave we 'ere?” One of the figures, rusty makeup slathered around her wide eyes and her hair tangled and wild, looked Izumi over. “An artful dodger?”

“Give 'im 'ere, china plate!” Said the other female figure. She grinned in Izumi's face, showing teeth that had been ground into sharp points. “Come on, cutie~! Give us a snog, ah?”

Abelard thought he was doing a good job keeping Guang behind him, but a ruined squawk told him very much otherwise.

He whipped around, seeing two more of the figures. They grabbed the phoenix and leapt across the courtyard.

“Could make a nice pillow out of these!” One of them laughed.

The other added, “And 'ave a nice dinnah after!”

“No, no!” Guang shook his head, “Trust me: I taste awful! Have you ever had Connecticut Grilled Chicken? I taste just like that!!”

Even in all of this chaos, no one approached Abelard. Was he not worth their time?

Did they not want to risk their lives?

“WOT'S ALL THIS THEN?!”

The voice, shrill but deepened by layers of fat, pierced the air. Abelard stepped back as a large figure towered over him. She was fat. So, so very fat. And it was distributed through her body in uneven lumps and rolls.

The makeup slathered around her eyes was a thick bluish-green paste. She looked around to all of her smaller counterparts and pulled her bloated lips into a tight frown. “Yer father's sleepin', you bunch of twits! Think about how hard 'e's been workin' lately and...” She trailed off when she saw Abelard standing in front of her.

“Oh~!” The large female strolled over to Abelard. She readjusted her stained and torn bodice so that her breasts were spilling over. “You one o' them Fancy Wendigoes, ain'tcha? Comin' 'ere in your,” She tugged at his clothes, “Whistle and flute. Ain'tcha cheeky?”

“Ma'am, please.” Abelard moved away from her searching hands. “Please tell your children to let my co-workers go. We're investigating the very serious matter of a murder.”

“Investigatin' a murder!!” The largest female in this group tossed her head back. She was cackling so hard that her rolls jiggled and the braces on her bloated thighs jingled. The others joined her, their own braces clinking and jingling.

“Go on and investigate, then!” A voice from the crowds jeered.

“Gonna find a bit more than you can chew, ah?”

The largest female frowned. She did give a slight huff. Izumi fell to the ground with a grunt once he was freed from the bindings of the two young females.

The young male jumped from Rebekah's back and the two others let Guang go.

“Now, listen 'ere.” The largest female sprung into the air, landing with a small quake: her bloomers showing as her skirts lifted up. “You ain't got any business 'ere. I'd get going if I was you.”

One of the humanoid creatures glanced over to the right of the compound. “Dad's back.”

Something shot into the air with the speed of the fastest jet. It hung in the misty airs above until it plummeted to the ground. He was built like a brick wall: thick arms, thick legs, rounded chest and stomach. His facial hair was rough, unkempt, despite the top hat on his head and the tie around his neck. The only other clothing he wore was a pair of suspenders. But that was a minor detail compared to the monsters that were his leg-braces.

They were bronze and creaked with each minute motion. They covered his feet completely and were screwed right into the bone and muscle: rancid puss squeezing out every time he took a step.

“ _There's_  my Jack-y~!” The large female strolled over to the male whose front was covered in stale blood and smelled off rot and death.

Abelard, mostly to keep them occupied with something mental, asked, “You know each other?”

“She's my Cows and Kisses.” Said the large, misshapen creature. He smacked a sloppy kiss on her lips.

At one point the two may have been something resembling humans. All of those who lived here would have.

The large male tossed a spiteful laugh to the investigating group. “Wot's your business 'ere in the Spring-Heeled compound?”

Abelard looked at the two. He pulled out the book his library had given up and opened it to the page that showed the double-bladed chain that killed Berry.

Abelard didn't even have to ask if Spring-Heeled Jack recognized the weapon. The chain was swaying at his hip. “Did you, three nights ago, come across a young elf in ShimmerGale?”

Spring-Heeled Jack leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “I did.”

Abelard exhaled. “Did. You murder. Berry?”

Spring-Heeled Jack scratched at his stomach with the hand that wasn't in his wife's cleavage.

“Berry, was it?” He gave a wistful sigh: nostalgic already. “Yeah, I think I remember... Coming back to me... Yeah!” He snapped his fingers, “I slaughtered that annoyin' brat like a Sunday Pig. Should've heard her choke!”

Izumi's claws twitched.

“Why?” Abelard closed the book. “Tell me  _why_?”

Spring-Heeled Jack wagged a filthy finger in front of Abelard. “Now, you know be'er than to go around askin' a Spring-Heeled that.”

“Slaughterin' pretty young things is our culture,” Spring-Heeled Josephine, Spring-Heeled Jack's wife, laughed, “If someone's willin' to fork ova good money to see someone's innards on the sidewalk, why not?”

“ _She was going to get married!_ ” Abelard hissed up at the grotesque creature. “Is shame a concept beyond you? What about pity?  _Anything?_ ”

Pink claws stepped forward. “Her ring.” Rebekah said, “Where is her ring?”

The Spring-Heeleds all started to cackle and laugh around them. But Rebekah stood her ground. “You've already taken away so much from Pine Needle. From Bubble.”

The laughter turned from obnoxious to raucous.

“You can at least give us back her ring!”

“Oh, come off it!” Spring-Heeled Josephine reached into her bosom and pulled out Berry's wedding ring. “'ere!” She tossed it over, “If it'll get you lot out of 'ere.”

Even as Rebekah caught the ring, Abelard wasn't done.

“Who hired you, then?” The wendigo stepped forward.

Spring-Heeled Jack removed his hand from his wife and walked over. “Don't gotta tell ya!”

“This is beyond you now.” Abelard didn't stop.

“Too damn bad.” Spring-Heeled Jack didn't either.

Both of them didn't stop until they were face to skull. “Tell me who hired you.”

Spring-Heeled Jack shoved Abelard to the misty ground. “Get over yourself!” The large creature sneered, pulling his double-bladed chain from his hip. “You know you ain't got nothing on me!!”

Izumi shot forward like a bullet. He flipped at the last second, racking his talons across Spring-Heeled Jack's face. The force he put behind the action toppled the creature to the ground.

“Bottle and GLASS!!” Spring-Heeled Josephine shrieked at the sight, the sound rolling through all of the buildings. More Spring-Heeleds fell jumped down to the courtyard. Chains were spun, giant scissors brought out; a few of them even pulled on surgical masks and pulled large blood-caked medical scalpels.

“Let's go!” Guang gave a mighty sweep of his wings, a plume of fire erupting between them and the Spring-Heeleds. Rebekah retrieved Abelard's belongings and Izumi grabbed Abelard himself before they all tore out of the compound like bats out of hell, a swarm of homicidal maniacs chasing them down.

“There's the gate!” Abelard shouted, the group pounced out the gate and panicked to lock it shut from the outside.

Just like the shadows from before, the Spring-Heeleds crashed against the gate with a cacophony of shouts and struggle.

Guang made sure that the gate would hold. “Long enough for us to get the hell out of here, at least. Izumi, what the hell was that about?”

Izumi walked away for a beat. “He was going to kill Abelard. At that point, everything we did was self-defense.”

Guang didn't agree. “We have to keep Cultural Immunity in min--”

Izumi bolted over, Guang crouching down away from his captain's fury. “SELF-DEFENSE, GUANG!”

The phoenix trembled. He nodded up at Izumi. The Karasu-tengu turned around. “Chief wanted this case solved by the end of tonight. I don't think we'll be able to manage tha – AH!” He bumped into something warm and solid enough to send him to the ground.

Abelard jogged over, already preparing another circle. “Wait.” He slowed to a walk, “Gahiji?”

“Abelard!” The sphinx bounced over, “What are you doing here? If I knew you'd be on this side of the town,” He looked at the elite officers, “And with friends! I'd have asked Silas to help me make a picnic!” Gahiji tapped a paw to his mouth. “We can still go eat! What's everyone in the mood for?” He bounced around the group, lips curved into a smile, “I was thinking donuts! But I can go for Chinese, we could go to a deli, we could get sushi--”

“Young one, please.” Abelard had to sigh. “We're trying to work. Maybe we can go to dinner next time.”

Guang brought out his notes. “Guess we're back at stage one.”

With everyone turned away, Gahiji pouted and began rolling around on the misty ground. His eyes washed over in a bright flash. It quickly faded and Gahiji asked Abelard, getting back to his feet. “Why are you doing this?”

The question was so absurd that Abelard had to turn around. “Because... we're working.”

Gahiji shook his head. “No, what I meant was... why are you doing this? When you already know who is truly responsible for this murder?”

“What?!” Guang and Rebekah shouted, “What do you mean he already knows?!”

Abelard was bewildered. What was Gahiji talking about? How did he already know, they were investigating? Investigating a case that was starting to, quite frankly, annoy the very threads of his sanity.

A...

…

Annoy.

“ _She had the annoying habit of talking a mile a minute...”_

“ _Just thinking about that annoying voice is giving me a headache...”_

“ _I'll tell you, this may have been one of my most annoying commissions...”_

“ _Sweet Lady Oleanda, what an annoying child...”_

“ _Berry was, like, annoying at times but who the fuck wasn't?! Is that enough to kill someone over?!”_

“ _I slaughtered that annoyin' brat like a Sunday Pig. Should've heard her choke!”_

 

“ _Damn that aggravating child. Look at all the trouble she's gotten us into now.”_

***

 

_36 Gelfing Boulevard_

_ShimmerGale District, 11:32 PM_

 

The front door of the mansion cracked inwards. The doorman, dressed for bed at this time, rushed out from his on-site bedroom. “What is the meaning of this? I should call the police this instant!”

Abelard stepped past the man without a second thought. When Rebekah made it in, she passed the doorman with a, “Luckily we're already here.”

Their destination was the main dining hall of the mansion. It just took a moment to find due to the urgency of the situation.

Abelard forced open a pair of doors. The space inside was large. It was dark. And, at the head of long dining table, a cup of Darjeeling tea in her fingers...

“When I sent the doorman to the Press,” Dam Ivy looked down her nose at the uninvited guests, “I was of the impression that you all would have at  _least_  been suspended from your ranks.”

Abelard stayed where he was. There was a malice in this room.

“She was your daughter-to-be.” He asked Dam Ivy. “ _Why_? For what reason could you have--”

Dam Ivy slammed her cup to the table. “That money-grubbing little  _slut_  is  _no_  daughter of mine!!” A dozen thick vines knocked Abelard back. They blocked off the entry to the dining hall, obstructing any attempts at apprehending her.

“Feh! Now what?” Rebekah asked, “I could burn these vines down but, even with Guang, it will take me at least 40 minutes!”

Dam Ivy poured more tea for herself. “Long enough for you all to hear.”

Izumi signaled for everyone to hold off on any action. Once all went still, Dam Ivy spoke.

“Pine Needle. The only child I was deemed to be blessed with. I went above and beyond making sure that he had the best; that he would grow and live with finery always. So!” She stood to her feet, “ _You_  tell  _me_  how it came to be that my outstanding child would saddle himself with some slutty, aggravating little gold-digger?!”

***

_Berry looked at her phone in bed. “Ugh, this is so #Unfair.”_

_Pine Needle, who was in the middle of removing his shirt, asked, “What is it?”_

_Berry pouted and looked down at the tent in Pine Needle's boxers. “The new De La Cruz Ivory Beetle Racers just came out and I'm, like, the only elf in ShimmerGale with a De La Cruz Sapphire~!” She tossed herself to the side with an enunciated sob. “You don't love me~!”_

“ _Berry...” Pine Needle sighed, laying on her so that his face was in her breasts. “You know I love you. More than anything this side of Dama Fristad.”_

_Berry only pouted._

_But it was so cute that Pine Needle chuckled. “That's why...” He reached underneath her pillow and pulled out a brand new set of car keys. “I got you two of them.”_

_Berry's eyes were as wide as baseballs. “Oh,_ Piney-baby~ _!”_

_Outside of her son's bedroom door, Dam Ivy seethed at the obnoxious display._

***

“Constant obnoxious manipulations like that!!” Dam Ivy was starting to sway: far too much emotion. She braced herself upon the table, panting and heaving. “And my poor,  _stupid_  child was too  _enamored_  to see how awful she was for him! She wasn't smart, she wasn't talented, and she's just a bastard orphan! What good was she to him?!”

“But he loved her.” Abelard's voice pried through the vines. “How could you even entertain the notion?”

Dam Ivy huffed and turned away. “17 million for a corpse is pocket change.” She shook her head, “No. No, the actual issue at hand is finding a nice elf for my son to marry. One that isn't trying to drain his pocketbook dry.”

She sat down in a chair that faced away from the blockade. “You wouldn't know.” She told Abelard, “The sacrifices that parents make for their children.”

She could smell the flames. Feel them burning the vines down.

“Do you think he'll hate me?” Dam Ivy asked. When she didn't get a response, she continued, “She was just  _so... awful_.”

The vines were giving way. Dam Ivy took a deep breath. Th fresh scent of Pine was already reaching her senses.

The heavy footsteps upon her lovely dining room floor. She was sure none of them had wiped their shoes before coming in.

“Dam Ivy.” One of the officers said, “You are under arrest for First-Degree Homicide: Conspiracy to Murder and Murder. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of Justice set by our Dama Fristad. May the fates have mercy on your soul.”

Dam Ivy allowed herself to be taken. “You know what?” She took a glance and saw her husband already calling up lawyers and tricksters and son...

Looking upon her with such hatred. Even when Rebekah handed him Berry's ring.

“I'm beginning to wonder if I even have one anymore.” The officers continued leading her out of her home. Chief Cruikshank was shouting orders and the doorman was struggling to keep out any nosy parties.

“By the way.” Abelard addressed Dam Ivy as she was being escorted away. He had been standing near the front door, waiting for the lady of the house to make her final exit. “I'm a father of three. All on my own in a country not my own. So, perhaps it is  _you,_ with more money than is mortally conceivable, with a spouse to lean on, who wouldn't know about the sacrifices parents make for their children.”

Dam Ivy was quiet after that, even as she was placed inside of a police car and carried away in a sea of judging gazes.

“Good work.” Chief Cruikshank walked in front of Izumi, Rebekah, and Guang. “Hopefully you all continue to live up to your status.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” The three saluted. The kelpie then turned to the wendigo.

“As for you.”

Here we go, Abelard thought.

“After barging into my office,” The Chief shook his mane, “Taking my elites on a scavenger hunt through the city, and almost causing a cultural hate crime. Do you know what I do to punks like you?!”

Abelard honestly didn't care at this point. He was so tired he almost missed the glint of gold that shot at him.

He caught it, though he winced as he felt a crack. Abelard shifted his holding hand and examined the object. A small gasp left him.

The star divided into six pieces, the ancient words engraved on the edges of the piece, and the engraving of a wing crossed with a sword in the center.

“Welcome to the force.” Chief Cruikshank turned his back to the wendigo. “Don't make me regret this.”

***

When Abelard made it home, he tried to do so as quietly as possible. Even though Gahiji was still wandering around town somewhere, he didn't want to wake anyone up and start any arguments that he just didn't have the energy to humor.

Abelard placed his belongings in his room and then went back to the kitchen for something stiff and dry.

“I was beginning to think I needed to call the police,” Zach said, Abelard ignoring him as he passed. He quickly turned around.

The wendigo held up a finger.

He quickly lowered it. No arguments. Not now. “Have you seen my...”

Zach walked to the counter and slid two items over to Abelard. One was a glass, the other was a bottle of German brandy.

“Asbach Uralt.” Abelard reached for the bottle. But he reconsidered and used his less dominant hand. He poured himself a glass and unhinged his jaw so he could down the warming liquid.

Zach brought over his own glass and Abelard poured him a glass too: though the hand he was using was shaking a little.

Zach took a slow sip; not needing to drink right now but not wanting Abelard to drink alone with the visible weariness in his shoulders. “Do you want to talk?” Zach offered.

But Abelard shook his head.

“I'm just tired.” He looked down at his hand, the one that had caught his badge.

“Just tired.”


	16. A Conversation Between Guardians




	17. Let's Do Lunch

* * *

 

 

“Gahiji~!”

“Yes?” The Sphinx, who had been walking down the street with a bag of dry-cleaning on his back, turned around to see a human man rushing over to him.

The human gazed up at Gahiji. The warmth and adoration was palpable in him. “Here!” The man held out a basket of muffins. They were still warm, all smelling of lemon zest and bittersweet chocolate.

“I just wanted to see that you got these.” The human said, “Was thinking of your...” He swallowed as he looked over that lustrous mane and those the thick thighs, “Ahem. Your beauty and wanted to make a small offering.”

“Muffins!” Gahiji bounced over and took the basket in his teeth.

The man bit back a heated groan. Gahiji's lips, even in a brief touch, were warm and soft like blue lotus petals drifting along the Nile on a Summer afternoon.

Gahiji set the basket on his back. “Thank you!” He turned and bounced on his way, leaving the man to dream and fantasize.

***

Gahiji had just dropped off the dry-cleaning bag. It was a favor for Zach, Abelard, and Silas; the latter overly paranoid about anything happening to his culinary uniforms. He couldn't wait to get home and have some of the muffins. “Mm...” He stopped, his cheeks puffing up into a pout, “I wish I had some tea to go with them...”

He was too busy pouting to himself that he didn't notice the chorus of footsteps approaching. Nor did he notice the several hands offering him cups of tea from all the nearby cafes, and even a few homemade contenders.

Gahiji rested a paw to his cheek. “Maybe hot chocolate instead?”

The first group of guys were shoved aside when new contenders came with offerings of hot chocolate.

“Wait, no.” Gahiji giggled, “ _Definitely_  tea.”

The first slew of guys shoved the hot chocolate carriers away and offered their tea again. Gahiji finally looked around, humming, “Oh! Where did all of you come from?”

***

“ _How?!_ ” Silveste neighed as Gahiji walked into the apartment. He had been watching Gahiji's swathes of affectionate fans from the window and he was simply perplexed. Silveste shook his bouncing mane and continued, “How is that  _you_  manage to succeed in the acquisition of the attention of homo-sapien males when  _I_  can barely get a secondary attempt at a glance?!”

Gahiji tossed a cranberry muffin into his mouth. “Well...” He carried the word in a circle. “I guess I can't take all the credit. After all...” His paws were gentle on the floor as he moved to get the remote. He turned on the TV to the news, the current story showing a picture of the Sphinx in question. “I'm one of Dama Fristad's most sought-after bachelors~! Whatever that means...”

Blancher bit into his muffin. “Pretty popular?”

“Pretty ditzy.” Bruner said, taking a sip of tea.

But poor Silveste could only fall to the ground and nicker out his grief. “I submitted my profile to the news ages ago~! And what has come of that venture? Nothing of any conceivable merit or value!”

It was at that moment that a cortex of frigid, stale mist formed in the wall. Fane stepped out of it, clutching something to his chest covered in a velvet blanket.

“Hi Fane~!” Gahiji waved, “I brought muffins!”

The phantom brushed him off; going straight to his room and shutting the door. Blancher and Bruner both looked to the ground to see the trail of muddy boot-sprints that Fane had left in his wake.

A second later, Fane barged up the stairs from his room and marched straight into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, a scowl appearing on the side of his face that had lips. “ _There's no food!_ ” He slammed the fridge shut.

“But...” Gahiji pointed a paw at the basket, “Muffins!”

“ _Ugh..!!_ ” Fane groaned, “There's no food! Where the hell is that shitty, normy human?!”

Mira's chest opened, the mimic yawning and letting his tongue loll out before shutting itself and reopening with his favored visage. “It's  _way_  too early to hear your bitching, kid...” He pulled himself over to Gahiji and Silveste. He took three muffins and started tearing into one of them. Mira made it halfway through one and looked over at Silveste's depressed state. “Aw, still single?”

“And I haven't the slightest inkling of a reason pertaining as to  _why..!_ ” Silveste sobbed.

Fane scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe because no one wants to be a horsefucker?”

“ _What?!_ ” Silveste gasped but Gahiji promptly interjected with,

“Loki seemed to like it well enough.” Said Gahiji. “Oh! And Zach went to the gym this morning. Said he'd be back around... 2-ish?”

“Oh my  _fucking God..!_ ” Fane sat down at the table, getting ready to start another major bitch-fit.

Gahiji hummed and thought for a moment. “Wait... Thinking... Thinking...” His eyes flashed brilliantly, the light quickly seceding, “I've got it! I know where we can get you some food and you some advice on approaching your future bride or bridegroom!” He had pointed to Fane and Silveste in that order.

“And where's that?” Fane folded his arms, not wanting to waste time with these two giant idiots. “I don't want to be seen outside of this condo with morons like you unless I...” Fane gulped, his eyes trailing away from his bitter focus point. “I...”

Silveste was already in the middle of asking what had the phantom flushing green when he noticed bat-like wings and a long, striped tail.

“Thank you for calling Stellar Go Wireless.” Suraj spoke into his headset. The Rakshasa silently yawned, curved fangs glinting in the kitchen light, before setting a kettle to boil. “My name is...” Suraj squinted down at the clipboard in his claws, “Steve.” He rolled his eyes, “How can I help you this morning?”

Suraj stretched his arms out wide while he waited, the stripes along his skin bunching and tightening along his biceps.

Fane shot up from his chair. He stormed over to Gahiji and folded his arms, “Let's go already! Are you idiots just going to sit there or are we going to go eat?!”

Silveste nickered and shook his head. Honestly, if the phantom was a few years older, no one would be tolerating his abrasive nonsense. Even with him being the Grim Reaper's only heir.

But Gahiji bounced up, smile as bright as ever, “Okay! Off we go to Pearl Avenue!”

***

Bare feet padded across the well-worn fabric of a boxing ring's floor. Zach, dressed in naught but the flowing pants and belt of the martial arts, stepped towards the center where another body was waiting.

Rory, the young man who ran the bookstore, wrapped half a roll of bandages around his forearms. “Please, be gentle.” He requested of Zach, who rolled his shoulder and cricked his neck to the side.

“I'll try not to bruise you.” Said Zach. Rory gulped down his whimper. He set his glasses down in the corner of the ring and walked back to Zach: getting into position, his arms up in a defensive pose.

Both men were only a few feet from one another. Neither moved to the offensive.

Rory gulped, wide eyes keeping Zach in sight.

Zach's face was impassive. As always.

Zach swept his left foot around himself, his body turning with the motion that led into him striking at one of Rory's arms.

Rory endured the hit with the slightest wince. He leaned back and regained his bearings in time to block another hit from Zach.

Neither of them spoke. Rory ducked away from a punch and took Zach by the arm. Gently, always gentle like the Spring breeze, Rory redirected the strength from the would-be blow and nearly had Zach falling to the ground.

Zach braced himself upon his palms before his chin hit the mat. He rolled into another punch and, when Rory looked down, he swept him off his feet with a well-placed kick.

Rory hit the mat with a loud 'thump'. “R-right then.” Rory coughed. Was the world spinning? Or was it just him?

Zach righted himself and walked over. He gave Rory a hand up. “1 and 0.” He said. “You want to go for another bout?”

“Of course!” Rory jumped up, eyes bright with his anticipation. “I'm going to get the upper hand on you one of these days! Besides, we haven't even broken a sweat.”

Zach watched Rory go back to his side of the ring. He let out a neutral sigh and got back into position.

\-->

Not even three minutes later, Rory was back on the ground: his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach from a particularly harsh kick.

Zach scratched the back of his head. “I'll go to the First-Aid booth to get some heating pads.”

“Okay...” Rory groaned. He watched Zach head down the hallway that led deeper into the gym. He laid there, pain lancing out from his abdomen. A Barghest happened to stroll by the ring and glanced at the crippled form laying on the vinyl.

“I think my stomach and my liver switched places.” Rory whimpered.

***

The center of Dama Fristad was connected to the ShimmerGale District by Air-tram, but its connection to Aquacia, District of Cleansing Waters and Rising Tides, was accessible by the mighty canals of pristine waters.

And, even then, traveling down them was possible only thanks to the admired efforts of both the great Traveling Turtles who called the diamond-clear waters of Dama Fristad their home, as well as the Charon boat company.

And, indeed, the boats that traveled through both Aquacia and Necronia's still, lifeless waterways, were all overseen by that greatest of boatkeepers.

However, it was on one of the Traveling Turtles heading into Aquacia that Gahiji, Silveste, and an ever-perturbed Fane found themselves upon.

For the third time during the ride, Blancher and Bruner had to help their prince regain his balance. His pointed hooves just weren't suitable for the rocking and bobbing of a chelonian boat ride.

“Hooves and Sugar-sparks!” Silveste groaned as Bruner held him steady, “Please inform me that we have completed the journey to our utmost destination already!”

The Traveling Turtle turned her head towards her passengers and huffed, “You think  _you_  have it bad? I have a two-hundred ton furry sitting on my spine!!”

Gahiji looked over the Traveling Turtle's side. His eyes flitted to and fro until he shoved his face into the fresh, cool waters. Those topaz eyes watched the watery depths grow from simple canal to the beginnings of Grecian pillars, great domes carved out from the opalized remains of giant tortoise shells, and grand archways.

A school of rainbow trout swam by, chased by two Hippocampus fillies.

Gahiji pulled his head back. His soaked mane was spilling over his eyes and the majority of his face, but his smile was at full-force. “We're almost there!”

“Oh, thank Siklon!” The Traveling Turtle groaned out. She pushed her flippers to give her that final boost to get this trip over with.

She had a freight full of kelp and a schooner's worth of aspirin with her name on it.

***

Everyone filed off of the Traveling Turtle. Some had to get straight to work, in either the fishing yards or the dozens of therapy centers the district had (both physical and metaphysical). Others quickly rushed off in favor of seeing the sights of the watery district. For, while ShimmerGale was a district of lush forests and air-trams, Aquacia was the district of crystal waters and a thousand different boats. Our main group got off and Gahiji promptly led the way down the ivory road: the pure white bricks embedded with various seashells and opalescent fossils.

“Just a bit further!” He announced, a bounce in his step. “And, while we're walking, we can keep talking! Silveste!” Gahiji slowed down just enough so that the others could catch up. “What do want most in your bridegroom?”

Silveste replied, “Well, to share the truth along with the conceptions, I am open-minded enough, regarding my choices, to look for a spouse among both sexes. However...” He looked out at the giant sea-like canal where a human man was paddling out in a boat, his selkie wife and son wrapping themselves in their seal coats before jumping off; promptly shifting into frolicking seals.

“I'd like for them to be fair, to be of kind heart, and of knowledgeable pursuit.”

Fane rolled his eyes. “You could probably start off by not insisting that any human is going to want to suck your horse dick.”

“ _So unrefined and uncouth_!” Silveste neighed, “Also, ignorance is displayed upon your face like a summer sunrise upon the valley! Blancher!”

The white donkey walked over and gave Silveste his wand. It shined from its place in Silveste's muzzle, a glowing portrait appearing in front of them. “When a member of the Royal Winterdust family has successfully courted a spouse, they are presented with a choice. They can become a unicorn.” The glowing picture showed the stick-figure melting down and reforming as a unicorn. “Or the Winterdust member can choose to become a human.” The portrait shimmied, showing two stick-figures. “When my mother courted my father, he gladly took the change upon himself to become a unicorn; the love that they have for one another is one to be admired, celebrated, venerated--”

_PHWEEEE!!!_

They looked to the canal to see a mermaid officer, all pouty cheeks and glaring eyes. “Like, hold your ground, boys! Unless you want to swim with the fishes, or, whatever.” The mermaid officer made sure that everyone was safe on the sidewalk. She blew her whistle again and sliced away from the nearby bridge.

The rumbling came first.

Then the crashing, choppy waves.

A massive hand broke through, with webbing between the tremendous fingers; each ending in a menacing claw the size of a school bus. It was dotted in rough, jagged barnacles.

It was covered in great, smooth scales that glimmered from the stormy oceans and forsaken sapphires.

The gigantic hand seemed to calculate for a moment. It plucked the bridge away, simple as a summer peach, and dragged it underneath the waters.

The claw broke through once more in order to place a new bridge in the empty space. An exact replica of the former, but without the nicks and stains of age and wear.

The hand made sure that everything was fastened correctly. Then, with a thundering crash, it sank back down beneath the crystalline waters.

“Okay!” The mermaid officer announced, “You're all cleared to cross!”

“Whoo-hoo!” Gahiji bounced, not minding the puddles in the least. “We're almost there!”

Fane frowned as a wave of water got way too fucking close for his liking. He shook his head, “What makes you such a wonderful love-expert?” He waited for Gahiji to stop his happy bouncing, “I mean, you're obviously a virgin --”

“No I'm not~!” Gahiji said, popping up behind the phantom much to Fane's wide-eyed shock. “You're so silly! You remind me of my best friend Anubis!”

 

Somewhere, in the Land of the Dead, the agonizing howl of a friend-zoned beast rang through the lifeless vales.

 

“I should have come to that conclusion,” Silveste said, allowing Gahiji to pass him, “You truly do possess a magnetic persona and wit --”

“HOW?!” Fane sputtered out, his one eye blown in horror, “WHO?! I mean, fuck, it would be like sticking your dick down a hallway!”

Gahiji stopped in front of a particular building. “Hey!” Fane walked over, Silveste following, “I want an answer to my question, you fat, furry fuck.”

“We're here!” Gahiji announced, ignoring Fane's inquiry. Fane and Silveste looked up to see the chaotic mish-mash of Eastern architecture and Greco-Roman influence. “I got a bunch of gift cards to this place earlier! I hear that they have really good shaved ice!”

***

A glass tray the size of a king-sized mattress was set upon the table. It was piled to the ceiling with every edible cut and hue of fresh seafood one could imagine, and some beyond that boundary.

“Please, enjoy!” The Taniwha who was working as their waitress offered before slithering off to help another table.

Fane forced his face into an unimpressed frown. Nevertheless, he placed a napkin upon his lap and dug in before anyone else could. With his mouth soon full of deep-fried halibut, he glanced over at Gahiji. “You still haven't told me.”

“Hm?” Gahiji looked down at Fane, half of a lightly-seared blue marlin down his throat. He dipped his head back, the large fish sliding down his throat. “What was that?” Gahiji asked, licking his lips and searching for another large piece.

“Your virginity, you dumb piece of shit.” Fane snapped, “We were literally on this ten minutes ago.”

“Oh, right!” Gahiji sat back. He cleaned his paw and rubbed it against his cheek. “His name was... Hm... Was it Cyanippus? Acamas? No, maybe Menalaus...” Gahiji finally jumped up from his chair. “I remember now! Diomeda, that's his name! I should give him a call to see what he's up to...”

Silveste had been drinking from his cup, a tangy Blue Hawaiian. He spat it out when the name traveled through his ears twice and kicked him in the skull. “Diomeda?” He asked, “As in 'the deciding factor of the Trojan War, the subterfuge by which Greece claimed victory, THE Trojan Horse himself' Diomeda?!”

Gahiji nodded. He picked up a plate of sliced tuna and took a bite. “Yep! If I recall --” His eyes flashed. “Oh, I remember now. It was the summer that I turned 1600 years old. He was traveling through the kingdom on some sort of escapade.”

Gahiji sighed as nostalgia rolled through his senses, “I just remember him being so much bigger than me: so much bolder and he could really fill a room. You have to understand...”

***

'Back then, I was really shy. And my self-esteem wasn't all that great either...'

_The sun god, Ra, let his bounty shine down upon the earth: scorching the backs of the slaves working on various buildings and temples._

_Ra made sure that the crops and animals had enough sun before he descended closer to the earth, to converse with their guest._

“ _You're a long way from the Grecian shores, young one. As hospitable as my children and I are, I am curious. What is your business in my domain?”_

_Diomeda chuckled, his mane shifting with the motion, “I am a wandering spirit, exalted one. I just wish to see the world's rarest treasures. After all, I've done my duty on the field of battle. I think I've earned some leisure time.”_

_Diomeda dipped his head down to drink from the golden trough in front of him._

_Something trembled in the shadows._

_Not lifting his head, the Trojan Horse looked in the direction of the movement: to the shadows of a nearby hall._

_Hello..._

_Oh, the little thing (as little as anything the size of a full-grown bull-elephant could be called) was shaking like a leaf. All skinny limbs and a mop of a mane that reached down to the floor. A wide topaz eye carefully peeked out of the mess of hair. It looked around the courtyard and, upon noting that Diomeda was looking right at him, the young Sphinx turned tail and ran off._

“ _I wasn't aware that a new sphinx had been born.” Diomeda hummed._

_A wash of flame surged up behind him. He held his breath as a saber-sharp claw was pressed up against his neck._

“ _Touch one hair on that kitten's head,” A female voice hissed, “And I will spill your blood into the Nile.”_

_The flames subsided as quickly as they had surged up. Diomeda took a safe breath before excusing himself._

_Horses were known for being stubborn. Why would the hero of the Trojan War be any different?_


	18. The Storm Rises

* * *

 

 

Gahiji, in the present, gave a handful of gift cards to the waitress when she came by at the end of their meal.

How did a sphinx, a unicorn, and a phantom manage to finish off a veritable mountain of sushi, fish and chips, caviar, and God knows what else?

They didn't. They were already thinking about how to get it all home. “Do you think everyone will like fish for the next, I don't know, two weeks?” Gahiji asked.

“Well,” Silveste said, “The only flesh that Suraj refuses to partake of seems to beef, so we should be fin--”

“You let a rocking horse pop your cherry” Fane frowned.

Gahiji pouted a bit. “ _Anyway_ ,” He started, “After him I dated the Piraeus Lion for a while until we decided to stick to being good friends.”

 

“Mom?” A little girl who was visiting Venice, family vacations and the like, tugged on her mother's sleeve, “Is the big stone kitty supposed to be crying?”

 

The entire restaurant staff arrived at the table to start boxing up the leftovers. “And, you know what? It did wonders for my confidence and outlook on the world!” Gahiji smirked at the young phantom, “You'd benefit from it, I think.”

Fane's face went neon. “Wha-what?” He looked to Silveste, desperate for an out.

Silveste merely shrugged. “Members of the Winterdust family are required to abstain for intercourse until marriage.”

But Gahiji wasn't done yet. “In fact,” The sphinx walked over to Fane and gave him a persistent nudge in the shoulder, “I think I know a certain someone who would be glad to help you.”

The neon-green conquering Fane's features turned fluorescent and began spreading to his skeletal half.

Gahiji was taking this to a downright malicious level. Silveste almost thought he should step in but, really, Gahiji wouldn't keep this up too far, right?

Right?

“NO!” A voice screamed in blood-curdling horror from three waterways off, “My baby!  _They took my baby!!_ ”

Gahiji quickly stopped his teasing and bounced over to the front of the restaurant.

“What's going on?” Silveste carefully followed, his steps only hastening when Blancher and Bruner came to his side. By the time that Fane joined them, Gahiji had just enough time to pull another umbrella out of the ether before a wave of water splashed all of them.

“Fucking assholes!” Fane grit his teeth, “Hey! What's the big fucking deal?!”

He didn't get an answer. Not from the pearl-white speedboat that whipped and careened over the clear waters. It was covered, bow to stern, in thick sheets of white armor. The only pieces of color to be found upon the vessel's form were the stark black insignia upon its side and the shining orb rattling around inside of the connected cage.

A mermaid officer was busy writing a ticket for someone who left their peach-boat parked in an emergency tide when the boat got close. Her breath slowed to a death's crawl when she laid gaze upon the crossed blade and rose over a dragon's head; all surrounded by a ring of burning leaves.

She whipped her head around and shouted into her clamshell radio. “HUNTERS!”

The staff of the restaurant ran to close up shop. “Sorry! We're done for the day!” They said in clipped, panicked tones.

“Wait!” Silveste galloped to the locked doors, slamming his pointed hooves against the glittering surface. “ _Please!_  Let us in to wait this out!!”

His whole body jerked when he felt something on his shoulder. “Your Majesty...” It was Blancher, Bruner continuing,

“We need to get you to safety.”

All mirth had left Gahiji. He was trying his best to keep his face neutral, but even his words were shaky when he turned to Fane and asked, “Can't you portal us out of here?”

“Oh so  _now_  you want to grow the fuck up!!” Fane snapped up at the sphinx. “Also:  _NO!_  I  _can't!_ ” He whipped his arm out beside himself, “There's too much  _LIFE_  here! I can't even save myself let alone the two of you!”

“STOP IN THE NAME OF THE DAMA FRISTAD!!” A sonic-boom shattered the air. A blur of black and the ruffling of feathers told anyone nearby that it was Captain Oshiro. Admittedly far from his usual jurisdiction. The karasu-tengu beat his wings to overtake the speedboat, just to have it veer into another waterway.

Gahiji, Fane, and Silveste grabbed the opportunistic bell by the handle and started running down whatever solid sidewalk they could find. There had to be somewhere to take shelter from... them. There just had to be.

***

Inside of the boat, a video screen popped up. It showed those inside a live-view of the boat's rear-view, especially the determined karasu-tengu chasing them down.

Several glowing lines of text popped up on the screen, arrows growing to point at random parts of Izumi's body.

Several keys and buttons were pressed in response.

***

The cage with the squishy, shining sphere moved aside in favor of a small cannon the size of a man's leg. It bobbed and jerked, pointing towards Izumi.

Izumi readied himself to dodge any bullets or harpoons that were sure to be sent his way.

_**BOOM!** _

The canon let loose with a bolt of electricity, striking Izumi before he could react.

The captain plummeted into the water. His feathers and cloud-light clothing quickly soaked up water. It pulled the unconscious officer further down. Down, down into the rapidly cooling depths.

A blade-sharp row of fins rose up from the depths. Longer than the world's largest cruise liner and twice as tall. One of the giant hands that had fixed the bridge faded in. Izumi's body floated down to it, dwarfed by the massive claws and scales.

Six eyes, each of them burnt with a color of the sea surrounding the slitted pupils, looked to Izumi. A bubble encircled the unconscious demon. The water inside spilled out and was quickly replaced with life-giving air. The six eyes swept up to the ocean's surface, narrowing at the retreating speedboat.

A growl, deep and low and potent as a whale's song, caused the very waters of Aquacia to tremble.

***

The speedboat took another sharp left on a fast but practiced route through Aquacia. It slowed down near a recently-abandoned music storefront where it had a clear view of three running creatures.

Though, in all honesty, only two of the three were running. Fane had Gahiji's mane in a tight grip as the sphinx ran down the sidewalks with Silveste. Fane looked to the left and gave a sharp tug. “Stop, you idiots!”

“We can't stop now!” Silveste screamed, “We have to get to a haven of safety and good tidings before those Hunters can--”

Gahiji rested a paw over the unicorn's mouth, his gaze meeting that of the speedboat's darkened Plexiglas windows.

***

Inside the speedboat, the screen snapped back to life: this time showing a live-feed of the sphinx, the unicorn, and the phantom on the ivory brick road.

A swarm of words and arrows flashed when the camera zoomed in on Silveste's horn. A gloved swiped to the right, more words popping up as the camera landed on Gahiji's headband.

***

The speedboat revved to life. The cannon aimed itself anew, engines burning with new vigor. A net of thick, smoking threads dripping with tar.

Silveste reared back onto his hind legs. The net crashed into him, the viscous tar searing a criss-crossed path over his pristine coat.

“Blancher!” Silveste neighed. His normally serene eyes were blown wide. Every time he moved the tar burned more of his hair away. “Bruner!!”

Both donkeys ran onto the scene from their searches for shelter. As soon as they saw their prince's distress and the encroaching boat, Blancher rushed to the prince's aid. He seized the worst of the foul-smelling net in his teeth; grinding, pulling, biting.

Bruner ran for the water, his hoof-steps fast enough for him not to sink beneath the churning waves. He ducked away from a second and third net, and turned around near the boat. He hopped onto his front hooves and cracked a mighty kick of his back hooves into the side of the speedboat.

The resulting dent was nonexistent, but the impact sent the speedboat rolling, skipping across the waves.

Blancher's teeth tore the net with a resulting sticky snap. He spat out the tar and remaining threads and helped Silveste get to his hooves; Bruner returning to the road. “Leaving now?” Bruner asked, Blancher nodding,

“Leaving now.”

A mechanical arm grew out of the speedboat's side. Grabbing the side of a building, it flipped the boat back onto its bottom. The engine cracked and sputtered but it didn't deter those inside. The speedboat sliced through the waters, the metal arm replacing its clamps with a rotating blade. The whirring that accompanied the spinning blade would bounce around your eardrums without respite.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Gahiji stopped in the middle of their escape. “Fane, you can't die! Why are  _you_  running?”

“Because  _maybe,_ ” Fane gritted his teeth, “I don't want my mom to find out I'm out here looking like this!!”

The speedboat swiped by and, with a swift swing, had Gahiji crying out in pain. He shook himself so hard that Fane was flung into the waters.

Gahiji's screech of pain tore the few frayed edges of calm that this part of Aquacia had. He whimpered and moved back: his careful paw-steps gingerly kissing the bricks below.

The speedboat's arm surged forth with the same saw, Gahiji's blood beading up and falling down

To the road

Below –

A pillar of flame erupted behind Gahiji: its heat and intensity scorching the road, nearby waters beginning to steam.

The savage roar of a lion rang out as a body tore through the pyre, claws surrounded by concentrated flames slicing through the first layer of the boat's defenses.

When the majority of the flames settled, she was visible: the body of a woman, a goddess. From her elbow down were the powerful hands of a lioness. From her thighs down she had the mighty legs of the hunting queens of the savannas. The head of a lioness rested on her shoulders, satiny hair whipping behind her; partially held out of her face by a warrior's brace. The speedboat attempted the pull back. The goddess glared down at the boat, eyes burning like the flames surrounding her claws. She dug her claws into the layers of armor and pulled the vessel back towards her, roaring once more. Steam whirled out of her mouth between her fangs. She hurled the boat through the air and it whistled as it approached solid ground. Bruner leaped forth. Lifting one leg he slammed the boat away with a heavy kick.

The speedboat spun out over the water. Two more mechanical arms shot out from the sides of the steel blight. The cannon was functional again.

“Sekhmet!” Gahiji yelled. The war-goddess looked behind her, sliding away from the grappling hook and chain launched at her.

Blancher had found an empty enough alley for Silveste to take shelter in with the others. He had even managed to dredge Fane out of the water. “Stay.” Blancher insisted before charging back into the fray where Sekhmet and Bruner were still fighting the speedboat.

A bolt of electricity just missed Bruner's ear. The boat's water-cannon clipped Sekhmet's leg. She burned through it, extending her claws.

“These waters will run red with your blood!!” She yelled and ran over the water. However, she soon stopped.

Stopped and jumped back to the road.

Silveste noticed that Blancher and Bruner were getting out of the water as well. “ _Now_  what's happening? I don't think my heart rate can withstand any more abrupt discordances from the norm!”

The speedboat quickly retracted its arms and its canon. The skies, at once a pristine blue with only a few white puffs of clouds, were quick to dissolve into a lofty blanket of black and grey.

_**KRA-KOOM!!** _

Thunder cleaved into the thickening skies; lightning bolts worthy of a mighty storm clashing against the water and slick buildings.

The speedboat's engines choked and sputtered despite the desperate attempts to get them started for a retreat. The increasing choppiness and darkness told them that something big was coming. They had been trained for this. They just had to get back on route. They just had to--

> _**“IF I'VE TOLD YOU LAND-WALKING FAILURES ONCE...”** _

 

One of the giant hands broke through the waves.

> **“ _THEN_**   _ **I'VE** _**_TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES...”_ **

A second monstrous hand shot out from the clean waters. They braced themselves upon the road and one of the larger buildings respectively, pulling along tenacious arms piled high with taut muscles covered in dense scales.

The waters exploded, surging up this way and that. They rained down in thick torrents as one of the hands seized the boat, which looked like a mere toy in its grip, and held tight.

Despite frantically trying to restart the engines, the speedboat was brought in front of six infuriated eyes; each burning with one of the ocean's hues.

Half-humanoid, Half picean, and entirely covered in those scales. The rows of fins on his back flexed and extended. The gills lining his pale white chest slowly opened, exhaled both water and air, and closed again. The six eyes blinked, their primal rage never diminishing.

The titanic beast roared at the diminutive speedboat, eight mountainous rows of saber teeth shining with every flash of lightning.

> **“ _STAY OUT OF MY DOMAIN!!!”_**  

He crunched the boat in his palm and, quickly plucking the cage from the twisting debris with dexterity unheard of for those beastly claws, he hurled the wreckage into the sea. Before it made contact, two tentacles surged out from the churning waters and tore the boat into two pieces: each half leaking oil and pulpy blood. They toyed with the screaming metal for a few minutes, slowly sinking into the boiling waters a moment after.

When the last greasy black bubbles popped, and the remnants of blood had faded into the water, the titanic beast rolled its six eyes.

> **“ _HUMANS... SO FUCKING STUBBORN...”_**

There was a 'pop' behind where an ear would be on a human man. He followed the noise with his eyes to see Izumi flying towards him. He landed upon his shoulder, adjusting himself like a pirate's parrot.

“The chief isn't going to like this.” Izumi said.

> **_“MAA...”_**  

The larger creature chuffed, 

> **_“_ ** **_LET THE OLD HORSE DIE OF COLIC FOR ALL I CARE. HE KEEPS YOU FAR TOO BUSY FOR MY LIKING ANYWAY.”_ **

He tossed a beyond-toothy grin in Izumi's direction, a bright flush seeping up through black feathers.

Back on the ground, Blancher and Bruner surveyed the area. Even with the stormy weather, the latter clipped a hoof against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Silveste peeked his head out of the alley. “Are the two of you certain?”

“Your fat ass is  _crushing_  me!” Fane shoved Silveste out of the alley. He brushed down his hoodie before scoffing, “Why the  _hell_  did I even come out here with you two idiots? Everyone knows that Aquacia has the worst human problem in all six districts. Siklon is such a lazy fucking – Shit, shit,  _SHIT!_ ”

Those massive claws plucked Fane up before he could spit another word. His senses were filled with the overbearing wash of sea salt and crushed seaweed.

The hand held him in front of the beast's eyes. A mighty gust of salty air left the beast's mouth. It would have stolen Fane's breath away had he been mortal.

> _**“I THOUGHT I SMELLED THE SOUR SIDE OF DEATH... AREN'T YOU A BIT FAR FROM NECRONIA?”**_  

Siklon, Aquacia's Guardian and Keeper of the Seas, gave Fane a once-over. 

> **_“DOES YOUR MOTHER EVEN KNOW THAT YOU'RE OUT HERE? WHAT ABOUT AKELDAMA?”_ **

Fane rolled his eyes. He kicked and swung his legs, determined not to whine like a child. “Put me down, you Deep One knock-off!” Izumi and Siklon looked at one another. It was the police captain who sighed, “Please put him down.”

Siklon glanced at Fane. The insufferable little bastard. 

> **_“OKAY.”_ **

Siklon let Fane fall to the waters below without a second thought. 

> **_“ONTO MORE IMPORTANT THINGS...”_ **

Izumi gave a tired sigh. “Siklon...”

> _**“ONTO MORE IMPORTANT THINGS...”**_  

Siklon insisted, taking the rescued cage from where he had it hanging from a fin.

***

Zach stopped short of the deliciousness that was a side of pastrami on honeyed rye in the gym's cafeteria. “I feel like I'm going to be subjected to a fountain of bitch when I get home.”

Rory simply tilted his head.

***

Siklon easily tore the cage open and, with that same impossibly gentle touch, he brought it down to wave-level.

“Hello?!” A mermaid swam onto the scene. She was dressed far more casual than her sisters in arms: simple creams and whites, her hair pinned back in a loose tail. “Please! Has anyone seen my baby?!  _Please_ , I --”

Siklon's claw gently nudged her towards where he was holding the sphere for her. “My baby!!” The mermaid grabbed the egg and did a flip, she was so full of joy. “Still shining. Still round. Still perfect...” She nuzzled her cheek against the smooth surface, trilling to the growing life inside. “Thank goodness.” Looking up at Siklon's colossal form. “Thank you, Uncle Siklon.”

Siklon lowered into the waters, more waves forming when he shrugged. 

> **_“_ ** **_GO ON, GET ON HOME.”_ **

The mermaid nodded and, after one more bow, she swam off to find the basket she had been carrying her precious bundle in.

***

Gahiji had to suffer Sekhmet inspecting him for injury. She forced his head to the left, to the right, and pushed him back onto his hind-legs. “Sekhmet~!” He whined, “I'm fine! And the cut's already healing~!”

Sekhmet paid him no mind. She finished up and yanked Gahiji's head down, despite only being a third of his size.

“You need your wings.” The war-goddess harshly whispered.

Gahiji flinched back. “I'm working on it.”

Sekhmet didn't seem to satisfied with that. She stepped back and exploded into a pillar of flame. It soon vanished, leaving another scorch mark in the sidewalk.

Gahiji sighed. He shook himself of any excess water and walked over to Silveste. “Well, that was exciting. Did you still want to go try meeting --”

“Take me home.”

Gahiji blinked and leaned closer, noticing Silveste crouched down into vulnerable position. His entire frame was the victim of tremors. His eyes were blown wide and his mane was beginning to frizz up and tangle. “C-come on Silveste.” Gahiji reached out a paw, “The hunters are all gone now.”

Silveste wasn't hearing it. He rapidly shook his head, his voice escalating with each syllable, “Take me home! Take me home!  _Take me home!_ ”

Blancher and Bruner helped their prince to his hooves and started slowly leading the way to the nearest Traveling Turtle pier.

“H-hey!” Fane sputtered out as his head broke out of the waves, “Where the  _hell_  are you two dipshits going?  _Hey!!_ ”

A crack of thunder tunneled through the clouds, heralding the freezing sheets of rain that soon fell to the world below. Fane grit his teeth and turned to Siklon, “Fucking  _seriously_?!”

“Let's just go.” Gahiji dredged Fane out of the water and set the phantom upon his back, sadly bouncing after Silveste and his guards; the vibrant hues of the day's outing being washed out to pale grey.


	19. The Couple Who Make Toys Together...

* * *

 

 

The branches on the large oak tree outside of their home began to sway with the morning light.

With a low bleat, a head of tight black curls peeked out from their covers. He scratched one of his long, furry ears and undid a tangle of his hair away from his upward curving horns.

He scratched at his stomach, just where the treasure trail began melting into his hairy, goat-like legs.

“I swear, the morning keeps coming sooner and sooner.” The faun tipped his head back into another yawn and then hops out of bed. His cloven hooves, thankfully, land on soft carpeting instead of tile or wood. He didn't want to give the other body in his bed a rude awakening.

He clip-clopped into the attached bathroom. Sleeping in the nude did wonders for one's morning bathroom rituals.

The shower head came to life with a groan, steaming water pouring down deep brown skin and the curly black hair covering it up in certain areas. His arms, underarms, chest, and his goat legs.

“Being a handsome son of a bitch should not require so much effort.” He lathered up and, soap still on his person, grabbed for the razor sitting in the cup hanging on the far end of the tub.

Very far.

He chuckled and got to work once the blade was in his hands.

***

Puffs of steam had escaped from the bottom of the bathroom door and fled to the upper part of the bedroom. The faun, dressed in a purple bath robe, clopped back into the room: curly hair trying to poof up with its new moisture.

The faun... He needs a name.

Risco gently tugged away a corner of the bed's blankets, a smooth plane of spring jade twinkling in the morning light.

The faun took a moment to drink in her presence. The light danced along her jewel-like exoskeleton in celestial marks. The curve of her two pairs of antennae and the double-edged points of her forearms were held tight to her frame as she slept.

Risco gave her a soft pat on the shoulder. “Hey. Rise and shine, love of mine.”

The Mantida tried to roll away from the gentle touch and smooth words. She slowly opened her eyes, compound lenses needing a moment to readjust to sunlight. “It can't be morning already~!” She sat up and stretched out her blade-like arms. Risco watched the adorable way her mandible clicked with her yawn. “Shower's ready. I'm gonna get started on breakfast.” Risco told the Mantida.

Mo Chou nodded, already undoing the curls in her antennae.

***

The kitchen had some size to it, despite their home being relegated to one floor of a larger building. Risco flipped the eggs and meat-hash he had in one pan before tending to the other pan's bubbling hotcakes.

Mo Chou sat at the table, reading on a grassy green tablet. She tapped the screen, skimming through what popped up. “How many orders do we have today?”

“Six to start,” Risco said, plating the food and setting it down on the table. “Along with two consultations.”

Mo Chou picked up her plate, as much as she was able, and started eating. “We have to stop by the Septette Mines later. Our raw materials are running low.”

“Speakin' of runnin'...” Risco popped his collar and made sure that the lapels of his purple rainy suit were proper before clip-clopping to the door. He yanked it open and saw a drake dressed in a gaudy uniform of rainbow capris and a metallic rainbow vest. “Spectra Coffee Delivery!” The drake said, “'Bringing Color to Your Dreary Life – So Cease Your Tears and Put Down the Knife'.” He sighed, “That'll be 15.87.”

Risco handed over the money and took the delivery box. The door creaked to a close, just to be interrupted a third of the way. “Um...” The drake tapped his talons against the ground. “Tip..?”

Risco could only scoff. “Boy! You is out of yo' got-damn mind if you think I'm tipping you! I pay a monthly fee of 32.99 for mornin' coffee delivery at 9:30, Mondays through Thursdays. It is almost noon! Where the hell were you?!”

The drake only scoffed again. Risco rolled his eyes and kicked the door shut. “Boy was probably 'bout to spend it on some hotline bling or something. Hey! Baby-girl!”

“Is that the coffee?” Mo Chou asked. Her arms clinked together when she clapped, like crystal goblets. Risco opened the box up and pulled out the four cups of coffee inside. “You want cream and sugar?”

“Do we have any honey?” Mo Chou asked. She worried her mandibles a bit. “Actually, no. Cream and sugar is good.”

Risco went and got both from the cabinet. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” He said. Mo Chou covered the side of her face, a windchime of a giggle leaving her.

“Oh, fine. Honey, please.”

Risco held Mo Chou's coffee just out of reach. “Hm... Please what now?”

Mo Chou pouted, her gossamer wings extending out behind her, “You are the worst~!”

“Nah,” Risco mixed in three spoonfuls of honey and a splash of cream into the cup, “You love me.”

Just before he handed it over, he popped a straw into the cup.

Mo Chou gladly took the cup, balancing it between her sharp arms. A careful sip, to gauge the temperature. Her eyes lit up with a smile. “It's perfect.”

Risco leaned onto the table, dumping a fistful of sugar and half a glass of milk into his own coffee. “Yeah...” He chugged down the majority of his cup. “My hair is looking pretty damn hot today.”

“Risco~!” Mo Chou pouted and hit the faun in the arm.

***

The unassuming building that Risco and Mo Chou called home was nestled near the hills of ShimmerGale, standing beside a great oak tree. They lived on the second floor, of course, but the first floor that they were descending the stairs to... that was their livelihood.

“Baby-girl,” Risco started turning on the glass lanterns mounted on the walls and counters, “Can you flip the sign for me?”

“Mm-hm!” Mo Chou nodded and walked to the front doors and windows. Risco continued his work in lighting the lanterns, each bulb of delicate, fey-kissed glass sculpted into some manner of erect penis.

The veiny staffs of humans, the rods of minotaurs hanging heavy with extra skin, dangerously rigid draconic dongs, and more all pulsating with soft light which caressed the wares of the store.

Mo Chou weaved through aisles of sweet-smelling lubricants and aphrodisiacs mixed from secret recipes of spices and floral extracts. She stopped to readjust some of the vibrators on the display rack, quickly following with a dusting of the leather and chains wall. When she got to the storefront windows, she flipped a sign leaning there from its visage of a moon-headed figure wrapped in nothing but black shibari ropes (the word 'Closed' written above) to a sun-headed figure bent over a table to expose their goodies to the world (the word 'Open' scrawled above their ass).

***

In the back room of the shop one could hear the 'whap-snap' of latex gloves. Risco fought his fabulous hair back into a ponytail.

He snatched a stainless steel bowl, a plastic cylindrical mold and a jar of not-quite-purple powder.

“Need more materials after today...” Risco grumbled. He poured two cups of the powder into the bowl and set it over a lit flame built into his work desk. “Marine jelly.” He hummed to himself, sinking down to where his elbow propped him up. “Night Dust. Binding sap. Foundation clay.” The mounting expenses made him shake his head. “Fuck me by the sea of Galilea...”

Thus was the price of business.

***

Mo Chou sat at the main counter near the front of the store. She was keeping an eye open for customers but her arms were deep into the motions of mixing her own concoctions. “Aloe gel for the base, flax oil, green tea...” Mo Chou flipped through her notepad of recipes; always next to her when she worked. She nodded when she saw what she was looking for. “Anise,” She mixed in, “Carageenan, a puff of ginger, and rose extract.”

Mo Shou set the bowl on a safe part of the counter. She sent it spinning in place with a slice of the air next to the vessel.

The chime of the door was the seductive siren's cry. Mo Chou sat up straight and looked at herself in the counter's reflective top. She readjusted the circlet of pearls on her head and checked her antennae bounciness. “Hello~!” She clapped her arms together. “Welcome to Eros and Mine! How can we help you with your pleasures?”

“Come on!” Two young creatures walked in. Dressed in a mini-dress that clung to her skeletal frame, the Calavera girl was dragging her friend, a timid, vibrantly-colored Alebrije into the salacious storefront.

“I'm still not so sure about this...” The Alebrije said, twiddling her claws together. She looked up from and the first thing that greeted her eyes was a giant neon-green dildo.

“I changed my mind!” She rapidly shook her head, her multi-toned cheeks burning over.

Mo Chou walked over just when the teasing was about to go to another extent. “Hello?” She placed herself between the two, “Did you two have any questions?”

The Alebrije squeaked out, “Well, I --”

“Okay, so, like, she is terrible when it comes to dates. Like, mucho malo. So she probably needs, you know, the biggest, blackest dildo you guys have to get her rocks off.”

The Alebrije whined, covering her face. “You know what? Let's just go, I don't...” She peeked an eye out, whining and hiding once more, “I'm ready for this!”

Mo Chou's shoulders slumped a bit watching the young creature being bullied by her friend. “Maybe!” She carefully wrapped an arm around the Alebrije, easing her away from her boney friend, “A more... private consultation would work better.”

She swept the younger creature away to one of the store's consultation rooms and closed the door before the Calavera could complain. “Okay.” Mo Chou nodded, “Now that certain annoyances are out of the way...”

“She means well.” The Alebrije took the moment to breathe. Too simply get a full chest of air and gently exhale it. “I think.”

Mo Chou offered the Alebrije a seat. “Now, I won't deny that having a toy is a great asset. Something to help you unwind from the stress of an arduous day~!” Mo Chou swayed on her four legs. She quickly caught herself. “But I won't deny that its something that you have to think about. There's no shame in deciding that it isn't for you.”

“N-no!” The alebrije shook her head. She held her claws up, folding them together just to keep them occupied. “I do want one. I, um... I'd be lying if I said I haven't been, well... I...”

Mo Chou gave the younger creature a gentle tap upon her shoulder. “Frustrated?”

The alebrije blushed all the way up to her pointed ears. A quiet nod was her answer.

Mo Chou stepped back. A glance to the right. A look to the left. She scuttered to the furthest wall in the room, searching through the box on the third shelf. “The best thing is to start off simple; to find out what you like before venturing any further. Here.”

The alebrije opened her hands to accept what Mo Chou was offering. It was a pink pouch, with the soft kiss of velvet and a silken drawstring. She opened it up to reveal a small unassuming device. It was round, a bit on the flatter side, with a round crystal on the back.

“This is the Comfy Cocoon 3.” Mo Chou explained, “The perfect toy for beginners.”

“How can you be so calm about this kind of stuff?!” The alebrije started panicking again. Mo Chou walked over and sat down next to her. “It's okay. Exploring your body, learning what feels nice, appreciating the beauty that is yourself... It isn't anything to be embarrassed about. And buying a toy should never be something that stresses you out.” She giggled. “Especially when you are trying to get rid of the stress!”

The alebrije looked to the toy. Then to Mo Chou. Her shoulders were still tense, but they were at least trying to ease up now. “Okay.”

“Perfect!” Mo Chou grabbed a small slip of paper, no bigger than your finger, “Now, it has ten vibration settings and three speeds...”

***

Risco's eyes narrowed to emphasize the glare he was giving to the material in his hands. After a few minutes of a rolling boil, he had poured it into a log-like mold. However, that was the least of the work he had to do. There was a pile of pictures next to him. He pinned one to the wall behind his work desk; thousands of pin-holes in the same space.

Even with this new vantage point, though, he wasn't seeing what he needed. “Come the fuck on...” He pulled open a drawer to retrieve an inspection glass. Looking at a picture of a succubus's pussy would have sent any other person into a thrill, but for Risco it was just business.

Difficult business since he couldn't get a good view. “Damn it, I told that boy!” He tossed the inspecting glass aside and pulled down a magnifying glass. “'If you want me to make this thing, get a GOOD picture of your girlfriend'! But nah~! No one ever listens to me! After all, who the fuck am I, right? Only the faun that's makin' a replica of your girlfriend's pussy for you to fuck while she's modeling in Milan! Damn!” He put the picture at an angle. “Finally!” He exhaled, getting a proper angle at last.

Up went a sculpting spatula! From the left came a modeling point. The debris brush didn't want to be left too far behind.

'Tear down the wall!

Bring this family together again!

Make this a land

For the glory of monster and man..!'

Risco kicked a hoof into the dresser behind him. His phone flew threw the air. It landed on his shoulder where he was quick to press his cheek up against it. “You've got Risco; give me the down-low” The faun's fingers were pressed down only a fraction. It glided through the material, carving out thick outer lips and smooth inner-grooves. “Oh, hey! Yeah... Yeah, your order's ready. You can come pick it up anytime before 8 o'clock.” Risco brushed away the excess debris before working on the actual hole: smoothing it out. “Well, if I'm not here, Mo Chou will help you out. … Okay, see ya then.” Risco let the phone slide down into his apron pocket. He hopped into a spinning chair, sliding across the workshop until he got to his glass bookcase of completed specialty works. “Let's see, which one was it...” He opened and rummaged until he saw it. An oral toy with a tongue shaped into two tentacles that, upon the snap of two fingers... Risco watched the artificial tentacles writhe amongst themselves: hunting out a decent mouthful. Risco eventually turned it off and set a small tester kit of Eros and Mine's best lubricants next to it.

***

Careful...

Careful...

Having blades for hands often made mixing things an ordeal. Mo Chou had the bowl of warming lubricant she had mixed precariously balanced on her hand. She tipped it over, a mere bit, and let the fluid pour into a prepared glass bottle.

She just had to fill it two-thirds of the way--

The door chimed, Mo Chou panicking a bit and causing some of the lube to spill onto the counter. She sighed, “Well, I can't say that this is the  _worst_  stain to show up here.” Mo Chou stood up and greeted the newcomer, “Welcome to Eros and Mine! How can we help you find your pleasures?”

A young man walked over to the counter. “Hey, so...” He sighed before scratching his head, “Okay. Okay, let me just get it out. So, my fiancee, she's a Hulder – straight from Norway, stacked like a model – the last time she went home to visit, she got me a present that,” He frowned, “Well...”

Mo Chou watched the human drop a harness onto the counter. To be fair, the craftsmanship was admirable: black leather, cashmere lining, and 24+ karat gold buckles and latches. Yet even with all of that, Mo Chou could see that there was a bit of a, well... size-discrepancy.

“Of course we can get that better fitted for you! Please,” She held an arm out towards one of their fitting rooms, “Right this way.”

***

The young man got undressed while Mo Chou made preparations of pins, a notepad, measuring tape, and a pair of scissors. “Okay.” The young man said, turning around and folding his arms over his chest binding.

Mo Chou got right to work. Jotting down the first bout of measurements, she asked, “Were you two going to need to look into attachments or anything?”

The young man shook his head, “No, no. The one we have at home fits into the mount and its able to get both of us off, the damn harness just doesn't fit my hips. Even at the tightest latch.”

Mo Chou nodded, jotting down more details.

“Okay.” She picked up the harness and handed it to the human. “Can you just put it on so I can get a visual of what I'm working with?”

She turned away to give some privacy while underwear and packing were removed. She listened to the clinking of chains and harnesses until the human said, “Okay, this is as good as it gets like this.”

When Mo Chou turned, the Mantida could see that this harness was just  _not_  going to be good if they left it like it was. She placed some pins in needed areas and jotted down some more details before telling the human, “Alright, we're all set.” Mo Chou turned around to scribble down everything she would need to do. “Did you want to come back later or would you be fine leaving this here with me for a few days?”

“Yeah, I can come back next week.” The human offered, pulling his shirt on. “I know its in good hands. Err... Blades.”

***

“Go on,” Risco told the Leucrocuta who was picking up their long-awaited commission, “Get in the fitting room and see how well it fits.”

Risco leaned up against the wall, closing the consultation room so the creature could have some privacy. “You'll find that the inner-textures provide a pleasurable contrast to the outer lips. I'd recommend the Salacious Sizzling Sap lubricant to accompany it. One of my baby-girl's best recipes, not that you asked.” He tapped a hoof against the floor. “The hole inside is firm but still manages to present a soft experience, especially rubbing against the ti – Okay, you know what?”

Risco turned and barged his way into the room. Immediately, his voice could be heard screaming, “Oh,  _hell_  nah! This room is  _not_  meant for that! There are plenty of good gloryholes down the hall!”

***

“Whatchu want for lunch, baby-girl?” Risco hung his apron up on the wall by his workshop. When he got closer to the counter, Mo Chou handed him his favorite purple jacket. “Can you get something from Li Gong's? It's 3-for-1 Day on entrees and desserts.”

Mo Chou handed him his leopard-print ascot and helped him tie it, managing it without cutting the fabric. Risco looked up at her. “Got it.” He smiled and signaled for her to lower her head.

“Oh?” Mo Chou blinked and did as asked. Risco immediately pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Be back in a bit. I'll tell the miners you said 'hi'!”

“Risco~!” Mo Chou face burned bright and she placed a blade against her cheek.

***

From ShimmerGale to the Septette Mines and back, along with restaurant stops, took an hour and a half.

And then there was the matter of traffic.

“What in the name of Dionysus is goin' on today?” The faun slammed his fists against the steering wheel of his delivery van. He rolled down the window and asked the homunculus in the sports car next to them, “What in the god damn is the hold up?”

“Mammoth-Dragon asleep in the road.” They replied and, on cue, the wooden street lights faded to red.

They were all going to be stuck there for a while.

Risco's groan was obnoxious. He put the van in park and went to check on both the food he had bought as well as the materials he had picked up from the mine.

Everything seemed okay. The Night Dust filled its barrel, the small amount of light from the rear window twinkling it in like evening stars; the Foundation Clay would need an earthquake to jostle its sturdy nature.

Risco tossed another thin sheet over the three boxes of Marine Jelly he had bought. “Don't need this melting before I can get it home.”

The faun walked back to the driver's seat and buckled in for the long wait. Cars, trucks, and carriages on every side of him. He looked up to see the slow blinking of the red, _red stoplight..._

 

 

Red lights flashed in a beating rhythm. The bass thundered and electronic twang pulled at the ears in the downtown club Amadeus. Both humans and nonhumans were writhing bodies against each other, downing drinks of all matter of potencies.

A tankard of ale was lifted, bottom's up, and quickly downed. It was slammed down on the counter, Risco wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Another round!”

“Another round!” His friends all raucously agreed with stomping hooves and whooping yells. When the next round of drinks was being laid out, Risco decided to walk around the club. Just for a change of scene, a breath of air.

He was a fond acquaintance with drink and debauchery; all fauns, as children of Dionysus, were. Risco had just graduated from school, hence his friends and him celebrating, and truly he felt a bay lifted from his shoulders.

Though a new typhoon was surging. What was he going to do now? He leaned over a glass barrier and looked over the sea of dance and drink below. He had a small fortune saved up, an inheritance from a favored uncle, but he didn't just want to squander it with food, fuck, and drink.

He leaned back to get a good look at the sweet piece of tits and ass that walked by.

Yeah. It was a tempting thought, but he really needed to think about his future. He would be foolish to waste the new opportunities ahead of him. The world was fresh, was fertile, was green like the entrancing expanse of jade in his line of sight –

“Got- _damn_!” He whistled. Risco walked along the wall and got a better look at the bright-eyed beauty with the four legs that went on for  _miles_.

A group of Mantida sat around a small table covered in tall drinks with branch-length straws. And the Mantida came in differing hues, one pink, one blue, even one white. But the one who had Risco's eyes leaving his head was the green one in the middle. Her compound eyes shined in the limited lighting of the club and her face lit up upon hearing a joke from one of her friends.

Risco booked it down to the first floor of the club but, of course, slowed down to a confident stroll when he was a few heads away from the table. “Gotta have a good strut. Bitches love the good strut.” They also liked someone who knew how to dress, so he was sure to readjust his ascot and his jacket.

***

Mo Chou and her friends' laughter was audible, even through the music flooding the air and causing the floor to vibrate. “Oh...” She wiped away a tear, “I'm going to head to the restroom. I'll bring drinks on the way back!”

Her friends sent her off and the Mantida carefully walked around heated bodies and oil slick conversation.

“Hey, baby-girl.”

Mo Chou meeped when she felt the warm weight of an arm around her waist. Her arms twitched, preparing to defend herself.

She turned and saw, well, just saw a creature so handsome her legs started to tremble from the close vicinity. Rich dark skin and shining jerry curls down the back of his neck, his horns polished and strong. Oh, and when he  _spoke_!

“Kind of chilly tonight, ain't it?” Risco asked Mo Chou. She wanted to laugh because it the club was absolutely  _boiling_. But she did want to hear what else he was building up to.

…

… Damn it, he was cute.

Risco chuckled, “Mind lettin' me use your thighs as earmuffs?”

Mo Chou blinked down at Risco with those big wide eyes. Her mandibles twitched. She fell into a peal of laughter that clinked in the air like celebration glasses.

“Yeah?” Risco chuckled, bumping his hip into her side. “You like that? The name's Risco, what can I call you besides 'baby-girl'?”

Mo Chou thought for a second. She then decided that she wanted to see where this was all going to go. “Mo Chou.”

“Mo Chou, huh?” Risco smirked, “Well, I  _fo' sho_  want some  _Mo Chou_.”

“Oh my  _goodness~!_ ” Mo Chou cackled, covering her face with her blades, “You are  _awful_! So awful!


	20. ... Stays Together

* * *

 

 

From then onward, the idea of lovebirds was more like 'love... goat and bug'. Risco and Mo Chou were almost constantly at one of their apartments or the other. Mo Chou had never had an admirer or boyfriend before. It was a wonderfully refreshing experience from the day-in/day-old of the long shifts at Greenvine Urgency Clinic. And Risco was such an interesting individual to have around.

It was so nice to hear about his inspirations and his dreams. Well, that and it didn't hurt that he was one handsome, horny son of a bitch.

"Okay, so," He said one day when they were getting coffee from Spectra Coffee Emporium, "If you had to bend it over for a minotaur, a hydra, or a harpy --"

"Why do I feel like this is the set-up for a terrible joke?" Mo Chou laughed. Risco kept on.

"Uh-uh, come on baby-girl. Let me know what I'm workin' with!"

"Oh you~!" She shook her head. "Well, I wouldn't really know. I think I'm more fond of fauns, actually."

Risco looked up at her. It was his turn to look away. "Damn, you can't just go and say things like that, baby-girl."

It just brought him deeper into the rosey mire that was his growing affection for the creature next to him.

***

"So..." One of Mo Chou's friends asked her while they were at work during the following week, "You've been spending a lot of time with that faun."

Mo Chou couldn't deny it. "I know." She gave a wistful little sigh, "I really like being with him. He isn't too pushy, he seems to really enjoy my company..." She gave one of their patients their afternoon medicine and whisked off to the next, “I think he might be--”

***

“--  _The one_?!” A balding old faun sputtered out, starting the process of treating Risco's hair. “Boy!” The old faun began slathering softening crème to the hair in thick handfuls that held that unnatural sweet scent that hair products, even hair products for nonhumans, always seemed to bear. “You is barely 25 years of age. Talkin' 'bout 'the one'...”

“Mm-hm!” A female faun who was braiding another faun's hair agreed. “You are  _sprung_  for this girl, honey.”

Risco rolled his eyes. Not that he could do much else now that the faun on his hair was starting to apply the perm. “Well  _I_  like her. And that's what's most important.” He thought for a second, watching his hair being wrapped in curlers, “Well, that and thinking of what to do with my life.”

***

In the skies above Dama Fristad, Ra yawned and retired. The gesture was the opening needed for Tsukuyomi, Japanese god of the Moon, to ride across the skies on his elegant mount: a rabbit with fur like milk and eyes as bright as the stars. Wherever the rabbit stepped in the skies, spots of nighttime darkness would spout forth: slowly growing outward until the setting light had been overtaken by the rising dark.

His hands were so warm on her hips. Mo Chou rocked on top of the faun beneath her. She pulled away from the kiss, face pink from a lack of air and a sudden rush of embarrassment. “I'm not too heavy, am I?”

“Nah, baby-girl.” Risco rubbed down her side, “You're nice and thick, just how I like.”

Mo Chou smiled and leaned down to kiss Risco again. Then.

She felt something throbbing against her.

“Hm?” She moved away to get a better look. The sight of the tent forming under the sheets. Just what he needed, damn it this was embarrassing. He was supposed to be cool about this, not pop a boner at the first bit of skin-on-skin contact.

“Is that...”

Risco braced himself...

“ _Your penis_?!” Even from where he was laying on the bed, Risco could see the hearts forming in Mo Chou's eyes as she looked at him. “I've never seen one in real life before! I have so many questions!”

Risco coughed, his dick twitching a bit. “Um...” He scratched at his chest, “O... kay?”

Mo Chou pressed the back of her blade up against the underside, Risco shuddering. “That's a bit, ngh, cold, baby-girl.”

“How big is it?” She asked.

“About seven inches hard.” Risco laid back against the pillows, deciding he may as well get comfortable.

“How often do you masturbate?”

“Twice a day when I'm busy. Way more often if I'm bored.”

“Is it sensitive?” There was a bit of a smile in Mo Chou's voice. Risco didn't think much about it until he felt something sticky and wet around the tip of his cock.

“ _H-holy_  shit...” Risco's eyes clamped shut, his senses needing to block one of their own out to prevent a sense of overwhelming. He cracked one of his eyes opened, groaning at the sight that greeted him between his legs.

Mo Chou moaned, her feet curling as Risco's cock scrubbed against her tongue, all thick heat and salt. She wanted to try and swallow around Risco. But a mouth full of sharp teeth would have turned that into an embarrassing hospital trip.

With nothing to grab, Risco was forced to dig his fingers into the sheets beneath him as he pumped his hips. “Between those bright eyes and that pretty pink tongue.. Fuck, almost there.” Furry hips strained against the burning need to buck upwards as Mo Chou got more curious. Mo Chou licked anywhere she could get, lowering down further to wrap around his balls.

It was all slow, all careful. But wet, slick, and enticing all the same. Risco's breath was heavy. Mo Chou's next words only made the fire rolling in his belly even worse.

“Your penis is so cute. Um...” She swallowed, “I can't suck your cock like a mammal could... But, if it's okay, could you fuck my tongue until you come? Just so I can taste what it's like?”

Risco choked, his heart thundering in his ears.

Mo Chou's laved across the engorged head, the soft noises she made vibrated down her tongue to his dick.

“Baby-girl!” Risco panted, fucking upwards into the slick grip, “Fuck, I'm gonna n –  _shit_!”

Mo Chou closed one of her eyes when the first few streaks of cum sprayed out onto her mouth and face. She waited for Risco to finish, keeping her blades away from his trembling legs until she could get close enough to lap up the remaining seed dribbling from the tip.

“Damn, baby-girl...” Risco rasped out, “Come on, back up on me and let me get a good look at ya.”

“Hm?” Mo Chou kissed Risco's hip, the look in her eyes fleeting, teasing.

Speaking of eating... “Baby-girl, come on..!”

He needed to get a taste. Just one taste, after that blowjob he was gagging for it. But Mo Chou shook her head. She crawled into position, all four of her legs wrapped around Risco.

She rocks herself once, trying to get used to Risco's body underneath her. Then she tried it again, picking up a slow grind against Risco: trying to rub herself to completion against the panting creature in the bed.

***

A frog expanded his throat into a tight bubble, twice. He jumped into the pond, two dragonflies flitting by.

Risco was on his stomach. He placed a hand on Mo Chou's waist, whispering, “Why didn't you let me--”

“It's okay.”

“Wait, what?”

“I got there. It's okay.”

“But I wanted to... Ugh, fine...”

Mo Chou looked at Risco's little pout and giggled. “Love you.” She poked him in the cheek, Risco still pouting as he said,

“Love you too, baby-girl.”

***

“Eh? Mo Chou!” Mo Chou was stirring the last ingredient in the sedative medications for the day. She looked up to see one of her co-workers calling out for her, “Get that medicine into the bottling machine already!”

Mo Chou nodded and, with one more stir, she hefted the bowl into a complicated machine of pipes and valves that all led to a row of empty bottles waiting to be filled.

“Lunchtime already?” Mo Chou asked one of her friends, the other Mantida pulling her along to cafeteria. “I think I want to go all the way with Risco soon.” She piped up, “He's really sweet and... and I want to spend as much time with him.”

One of the other Mantida looked at Mo Chou. Then they looked to the Mantida next to her. “Wow...”

“What?” Mo Chou asked with a tilt of her head. One of her friends pulled their phone out of their bag and swiped through a few pages and handed it to Mo Chou. “Maybe you should skim through this.”

Mo Chou set aside her food so she could take the phone. “'Mantida Dating and You. So you've finally found that special lovebug. Great! Here are a few things to expect on your first night thumping thoraxes. Try not to eat anything before, so you don't let any of your special lovebug go to was--'”

Mo Chou's face fell, her antennae uncurling and falling limp.

 

“NNNOOOO!!” The shout had birds and pixies fleeing from the tree that the clinic was built into.

***

Mo Chou was sobbing, her tears falling in the engravings on her blades. “ _Seriously_ , Mo Chou?!” One of her friends asked, “You didn't know that that's how sex works?! You're a nurse, for goodness sake!”

Mo Chou shook her head, eyes still wet, “I majored in mammalian anatomy in school..!” She took the napkin that one of the other nurses offered. “What am I going to do?! I can't do that to Risco!” She wiped her eyes, “Not only that, but I'm too young to be a single mother..!”

“Well, if you want to go all the way with him, them's the breaks.” Another Mantida insisted, “I mean, yeah, I wish that someone had reminded me of that before I had sex for the first time. But I like to think that he would be glad that I've been raising the grubs up so well.”

Mo Chou was only half-listening at that point. Why was this happening? All she wanted to do was have sex with the creature she loved. She didn't want to kill him. She couldn't even imagine spanking him!

***

“Wait, WHAT?!” Risco jumped forward in his barber's chair. He had gone in to get his goatee trimmed for his date with Mo Chou that evening. Yet barbershops were always a source of passed-down wisdom.

Whether you wanted it or not.

The owner of the barbershop tossed aside the tombstone he was holding. “Boy, you didn't realize what you were getting' into? By Trillium the Fair's sun-kissed hair, you is dumb!”

“That's what you get for goin' after bug pussy.” The faun braiding hair near the front of the shop huffed.

Risco frowned: shaving cream dripping from his chin. He looked at his reflection in the wide mirrors across from his chair. He ran his fingers across his neck. He loved his baby girl, he really did.

But he also loved his head.

And his balls.

And his di – You know what, he loved being alive.

He flinched at the sharp crack of a comb against his hand. He looked to the right, shouting, “Ow?!” To the female faun tapping her hoof at him.

“Whatchu gaping at the mirror for?! Call her and dump her before you end up with less brain than you already got!”

Risco sighed and leaned his head back so his barber could finish his trim.

 

Would you believe, even then, that one of Risco's main thoughts was how to make sex with Mo Chou work? How to make his baby-girl's first time a good time worth repeating.

***

The next time Risco and Mo Chou met up was a disaster. Neither of them wanted to even get close to each other, keeping a table's distance between them. The entire experience was so awful that Mo Chou eventually decided to just go home.

Risco sat at his kitchen table: his head in his hands, a bottle of faun-strength Cristal next to him. This was a disaster. He was pulled between his rapidly deteriorating relationship and his lack of direction.

He snatched up the bottle and knocked back half of it. Risco stood to his hooves and grabbed his jacket, storming out of his apartment.

Yet, when he got out into the lukewarm air of the dawn, he slowed down. He started to the left – Stop!

No... Maybe to the right? Two steps down and he turned back.

Forward.

He needed to move forward.

Risco gasped, his trance breaking when he realized where he was. The misty mouth of the Septette Mines: the entrance leading deep into the unknown that only a certain few could navigate. He had come by here a few times when he was younger, watching the dwarves and wyverns go in with jackhammers and pick-axes, hefting up shimmering spoils to sell for the day.

Why was he here  _now_?

He walked amongst the stalls. Boxes of creamy opal, sparkling diamond dust, and thick bars of silver and gold.

One table was laden to the gilders with bars of pinkish gold that emanated warmth and comfort. “Hey...” He walked over, “What's this stuff?”

“Heart Gold.” The old dwarf minding the table took a drag off of his pipe, “Blessed by the earth to bond two souls together. Great for wedding rings.” He exhaled a thick cloud of sweet smoke, “Not that my blasted son would know anything about marriage. Always too busy jerking it to the centauresses who mind the panning streams.”

Risco grimaced a bit. Mining Centauresses were  _huge_. Easy on the eyes, but  _huge_! With the lower bodies of Clydesdales, mighty muscles, and bountiful... tracks of land. It wasn't even just the idea of mounting one, which was pretty damn impossible.

Trust him.

He had  _tried_.

If you did convince one to lay on the ground and managed to get things hot and heavy, there was the, urm, matter of  _size-differences_  in more intimate regards.

Risco leaned against the table and hefted one of the bars up, inspecting its pure quality and warmth.

A flash of Mo Chou's face entered his vision.

“Huh.” He said to himself. He turned around and saw other things being sold by the table-load.

Marine jelly.

Night Dust.

Binding sap.

Foundation clay.

And then the Heart Gold in his hands. A bond between two souls...

His lips turned up in a smirk.

He had some purchases to make.

***

Mo Chou sighed, walking into Risco's apartment. She just  _knew_  that he was going to dump her for some nice mammalian girl who could actually suck his dick or ride him into oblivion. It was just a matter of time.

Even as they had dinner, watched a movie, made out on the couch, gone to bed... She could tell that this was it.

So what she had blades instead of hands? So what if her kind were natural-born homicidal gourmands?

… She deserved love too.

“I wanna try somethin' tonight.” Risco said. He walked over to the closet to retrieve a treasure chest. It was a solid black. It wasn't even sealed by any sort of lock.

Mo Chou let Risco do whatever he was talking about. She didn't want this night to end off angry. Yet, when Risco turned around and showed her the contents of the chest.

Well.

She didn't know  _what_  to think.

Mo Chou blinked. “Is that... an  _onahole_?”

There were two objects in the chest. One of them did, in fact, look like an onahole: a sex toy made to simulate lips and tongue or a woman's vagina.

However, this one looked much more ornate than most models. The outside was encased in a dark ceramic, folds of cured gel lining the inside, a band of gold on the outside holding the piece together. It seemed made for specific function rather than imaginary aesthetics.

“Well, I mean,” Risco rubbed the part of his neck that wasn't a sweaty mess. “ _Kind of_? Maybe? I – okay, can you just relax and... and trust me on this? Here.” Mo Chou looked down at the armband that Risco was offering her, the second object in the chest. It was crafted with burnt black ceramic, lined with a cured layer of cool gel on the inside. The candlelight in the room flickered over the traces of precious gem dust in it, the foundation of dark Night Dust. Finally, there was the ring of rose gold encircling the entire thing.  
“It's beautiful.” Mo Chou commented.

“Y-yeah.” Risco swallowed, “Go on, put it on and make yourself comfortable, baby-girl.”

The arm band was clasped over Mo Chou's upper arm and she laid back in the bed. What was the faun planning? She felt the cool gel inside grow warm. It massaged into her exoskeleton and brought on a tingling sensation and made her entire body shiver.

'He's really serious about... whatever this is.' Mo Chou thought as she looked at Risco once more. “Alright,” She willed herself to relax a little, “I'm in your hands.”

It would be nice to pretend that they could have a normal sexual relationship. In fact, if she closed her eyes she could imagine it: spreading her legs and feeling the subtle beginnings of beard-burn against her thighs. Risco's heated breath against the most sensitive part of her body. She could feel herself opening up, the plates of her outer armor sliding aside and exposing the dewy petals of her sex.

Something slick poured against her. She could feel the sensation but she didn't feel the consequence of it staining the sheets.

Risco set the bottle of lubricant he was using (the shitty human kind too, bleh).

'Come on,' He prayed in his mind, 'Don't have me makin' an ass out of myself now.'

He licked over the opening of the toy. Immediately, Mo Chou tossed her head back. Her legs scrambled against the sheets from the sensation of something licking against her cunt, fervently with heated lashes.

“Oh my God,  _oh my God!_ ” Mo Chou struggled to open her eyes, to see what the hell was going on. But all Risco was doing was eating that silly toy out. Every time he went in, it was like he was trying to devour her whole.

The faun pulled away, goatee slick with saliva and lube. Do or die time.

“I'm coming in.” Risco told her as he rubbed his cockhead up against the toy's opening. He glanced over at Mo Chou, the Mantida trembling, gasping on the mattress.

She felt a slow pressure against her before she felt herself opening up for the impression of Risco easing his dick into her sopping wet heat. Mo Chou's head was overcome. She sank into lightheadedness, into a soft pink fog, a shocked cry melting into a drawn-out moan.

Risco worried at his bottom lip. He held his portion of the toy in a better position before allowing himself to sink in deeper. He was brought face to face with the knowledge that he was feeling Mo Chou's insides convulsing around him as if he were right there on top of her.

He wished he could have taken notes on this. He would just have to ask Mo Shou later. “Mmph, you're squeezing so  _tight_...” He groaned out.

If Mo Chou could hear him, she didn't show it. She flipped onto her stomach on her own, rocking against the sheets. She was feverishly desperate, trying to get closer to the source of pleasure but not making any contact because, outside of the sensations, there wasn't any contact.

“I don't... Know what you're doing,” Mo Chou panted, tears in the corners of her eyes,

But, please...  _Please_ , keep going. Go harder. Do whatever you want, just please don't –  _ah~!!_ ”

Risco cut her off, pulling away from the toy just enough so he could thrust back inside. Mo Chou feels it all, the band around her arm acting as the perfect sole conduit, the bond between both of them. It happens again, and again, a relentless assault on both of their nerves soon building.

The feelings are a bubbling miasma rolling through the room. All space outside of the room faded into nonimportance. All that really mattered worth a damn were the moans and aborted breaths of the alluring creature in his bed.

“Shit!” Risco fell on his rump, fucking up into the toy. The heat of the room and Mo Chou's made for a heady combination. He slowed down once more, rolling his hips in small circles.

“ _Don't tease me~!_ ” Mo Chou dug her blades into the bed, “More! Fuck me, use me however you want!” She needed to come, she was so close.

“Never want to use you, baby-girl.” Risco whispered, “Just wanna make you feel as special as you really are.” At Mo Chou's frustrated sob, he rasped out, “Wish I could come inside you for real. I'd love to see it dripping out of you.”

Mo Chou really lost it then. She bucked back against nothing, her words becoming filthier, more frantic as she plummeted towards that sought-after zenith. “Your cock is so thick and hot, I can feel everything about it and its not even inside me!”

“Mo Chou...”

“We can do this again, right?” Mo Chou panted, saliva escaping her mouth, “We're not... even done... and I'm already thinking about doing this again!”

Risco nodded, beads of sweat dripping off of him. “Anytime you want, baby-girl. Damn, you're fucking perfect!”

“I'm still a virgin and you've already ruined me for anything or anyone else! I-I'm –!” Mo Chou's body seized up, a few drops of slick escaping her quivering sex when she came.

Risco doesn't fare much better. He comes with a strangled shout, shooting his load in thick pulses that soon seep out of the toy.

Mo Chou could feel that, too: the sensation of liquid fire triggering a second minor orgasm in her.

Risco's hips jerked into the toy, into his lover, with several more rapid, jerky thrusts of his hips.

They both stayed where they were, the aftershocks of both of their orgasms rolling through each other; prolonging the high.

Something else that Risco would have to look into.

“Baby-girl...” He whispered and crawled into the bed next to Mo Chou. “You okay?”

Mo Chou, sinking into the respite of the mattress and sheets, replied,

“... e ...ity...”

Risco quirked an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Mo Chou struggled to lift her head, eyes glossy and tongue lolling out,

“Adjust... the  _sensitivity~_ ”

***

The following afternoon, because there was no way in hell they were waking up with the sunrise after a night like that, Mo Chou brought Risco's inventions to the kitchen table.

They sat across from one another, looking at them. “Did you clean the main conduit out?” Risco asked.

Mo Chou nodded. “You come a lot, so it took a good thirty minutes. That being said--” Mo Chou struck her blades against the table, “You are an  _incredible_  inventor! Last night was amazing, I never dreamed that sex would be so incredible!”

“Well, I wouldn't really call myself an inventor.” Risco chuckled, “Just a horny goat who wanted to show his baby-girl a good time.” He lifted the main conduit, sticking his fingers inside the dormant folds of gel. “A one-to-one sexual high between two souls, without physical contact. An impossible intimacy the likes of which human toys can't hope to compare.” He sighed, “Wish I had better lube to use this thing with, though. Human-grade lubricants are hot-garbage.”

Mo Chou sat back in her chair. “Lubricant... You know, there are so many herbs and saps known to nonhuman kind. So many of them could be found here in ShimmerGale.” Her eyes shined with a smile. “Risco! You should make and sell toys!”

“Selling toys?” Risco repeated. “Hm... You know, that doesn't sound too bad. Yeah!” He knocked a hoof against the floor, “We could find a cheap storefront and move in together!”

“Yes!” Mo Chou clinked her blades together, “I could mix up recipes for nonhuman-grade lubricants and help the customers while you craft more... Um...” She looked at the device on the table, “What have you decided to call it?”

Risco hummed in thought. His mind was a blur, a storm of planning, hopes, and fiscal numbers.

He snapped his fingers with a smirk.

***

The Goldenrod Bond. That's what they decided to call it, in honor of the Heart Gold that provided the main effect.

Without any haste, they used the remainder of Risco's inheritance (and Mo Chou's deposit from leaving her apartment) leasing a building in the breezy hillsides of ShimmerGale as well as buying a few more raw materials: various herbs and bases for Mo Chou to experiment with, more materials from the mines for Risco to make not only Goldenrod Bonds, but other toys as well.

All made with both humans and nonhumans in mind.

The first few weeks were the hardest. No one knew they were there or what they were doing. Mo Chou pleaded with her former coworkers to spread the word and Risco asked those at the barbershop.

Both were often met with snickers or accusations of depravity, but it all just motivated Mo Chou even more.

She had experienced the true beauty known as sexual release, she was determined to let others share in that beauty. And seeing Mo Chou fired up got Risco fired up.

Even with finances running out with how expensive it was to keep the store, to purchase materials and furniture.

***

The start of their salvation would come with a curious customer coming in to browse.

“Welcome to Eros and Mine!” Both Risco and Mo Chou greeted. “How can we help you find your pleasures?”

A woman in a mermaid gown looked around, holding her cheek in her gloved palm. “No... No, I guess you guys wouldn't be able to help either...”

She began walking away but Mo Chou bolted over and set her down in a comfy chair.

“Now you can't just leave without even letting us hear your troubles!” Risco walked over with a slice of pound cake plated with strawberries, “Come on, let us hear it.”

The woman took a bite of cake, chewing it slowly and letting the delicate texture melt on her tongue. “Okay. Well... My fiance and I have been together for three years now. He's a sweetheart and I really want to be able to have sex with him, but... I, uh...”

“Well?” Risco prompted her to keep talking.

The woman reached into her blouse and brought out a locket. Upon unlocking it, one could see a picture of the woman, covered head to toe in a HazMat suit, hugging a towering beast composed of noxious tar and toxic gasses.

“We even have to sleep in different rooms...” The woman sighed, “I tried using a Filter Badge one night when I was desperate enough to try, but...” She gently eased down one of her gloves. Her skin was paper pale and discolored from her knuckles up to her wrist.

“I just feel so bad.” She pulled her glove back up, “He's such a dear and I feel like he thinks I don't want to be around him.” The woman chuckled, pulling down her wide-brimmed hat to cover her misty eyes. “Ah, well... I didn't mean to give the two of you a sob story.”

Mo Chou shook her head, “Not a sob story. You love him so much, you want to share that love physically even with such risks!”

“And  _we_ ,” Risco bumped in between the Mantida and the human, “Have something that might help.”

***

It took a bit of convincing, what with the cost of their pride and joys, but the woman left with a Goldenrod Bond and a money-back guarantee.

“Alright.” Risco whistled. “Here's hoping for the best.” His right hoof ratt-a-tat-tated against the floor.

He felt a weight against his back. “We can do this, Risco.” Mo Chou whispered, “I believe in us.”

***

Mo Chou was mixing a recipe for Full Moon lubricant. The idea was for it to be a lube that would benefit werewolves and Lycans, so she needed to get it down soon so it could cure in the powerful light of the moon.

Her body jolted in her chair when the door cracked inward.

A wide brim hat fluttered to the floor. Mo Chou blinked at the human woman in her arms. “ _Thank you!!_ ” The woman from yesterday cried out, elated tears streaming down her face.

***

That woman... had friends. Friends whom she and her fiance were more than okay with sharing the new source of their joy with.

And while they didn't always sell Goldenrod Bonds (because they were expensive as all hell by the end of the day), Risco and Mo Chou were finally on their way to breaking even.

And then came the day. The gracious day where their small doors and humble storefront were graced by the Father of Fae and the Sire of Elves himself.

***

Mo Chou had been struck still and mute.

Risco couldn't bear to lift his eyes from the ground.

Bare feet, each nail lacquered a different gem-like hue, padded over the store floor. The figure disappeared behind a tall shelf of vibrators, inspecting anything he could get his fingers on. A cascade of silken black hair followed them along the floor and out the front door.

> _“Satiate my curiosity.”_  

Trillium the Fair had insisted, 

> _“Given the materials, the time... The funding, how large could you make the main piece?”_

Risco and Mo Chou glanced at each other. Was he here for  _that?_ The faun spoke up, “How big we talkin'? Like an orc or--”

> _“A dear friend of mine has a birthday close approaching.”_  

Trillium the Fair had continued, 

> _“And I think a Goldenrod Bond would be a lovely present for him and his little bird.”_

Before he could think, Risco frowned, “'Little bird'?”

Luckily, Mo Chou was still on the track of business. “Well, we would need time to mix materials, to carve and glaze, and to enchant. Not to mention purifying the gold and making sure that everything fits--”

> _“Come with me.”_  

Trillium the Fair had pointed towards the doorway, opening to reveal not the outside of Risco's apartment. Instead, the three were walking down a cool cavern that cleaved deep into the slick, cool depths. Stalagmites barely dodged away from their Stalactite cousins.

> _“This way please...”_

The further they went, the more they could hear the gentle crashing of waves; the more they could smell sea salt. Trillium the Fair had used the mighty staff in his hand to part his way through a curtain of glowing shells and crystals. When it was their turn, Risco held the way open for Mo Chou.

They were seeing something more resembling living quarters now. The cool cavern walls were still there, but there was a long rug lining the spiraling path. There were several stone statues of various beasts and figures, draped in seaweed and speckled with barnacles.

The path was marked with smooth rocks. They hummed and glowed when the three walked past. Other than that, though, the caverns were mostly dark.

Mo Chou walked ahead of Risco a little, though she still held behind Trillium the Fair's gait. The scent of the sea was growing stronger, an underlying wash of male musk underneath. A low light faded into view, Risco and Mo Chou gasping when they saw its source. They looked up.

Up.

_Up._

_And up_ , seeing the slumbering form of Aquacia's Guardian and the Keeper of the Seas, Siklon.

> _"This is your client.”_  

Trillium the Fair had said, a smile upon full lips,

> _“I want the two of you to make your best Goldenrod Bond for him and his young lover.”_  

Trillium the Fair had looked up at Siklon, all six of the beast's eyes closed.

> _“They're woefully in need of some sexual gratification. Though, with said lover being more... your stature,”_  

Trillium the Fair softly pointed his staff in Risco's direction, 

> _“You can imagine where the trouble comes in.”_

Risco felt pressed between a mountain and a castle. Not only was this something that he  _couldn't_  possibly deny, not only for the potential exposure and boon of finances for business but for the small fact that this wasn't just a request for  _one_  guardian, it was for  _TWO,_ his brain was twisting trying to think of the mechanics involved. How much raw material they would need for a main conduit to fit what was  _surely_  a colossal classification of cock? How long would it take him to carve and build something like that?!

> _“I would like to remind you,”_  

Trillium the Fair had spoken, 

> _“That Siklon's birthday celebrations are two months from now. So I need your confirmation sooner, as in now, rather than later, whether faun.”_

Risco gulped, looking up at Siklon's slumbering state.

Mo Chou stepped forward, “We would need help with the construction.”

Trillium smirked. 

> _“But of course. I can arrange a shipyard for the project's completion. Yet, I would imagine that you want to get measurements and notes taken down now.”_

“Will he wake up while we're workin'?” Risco asked, not feeling much like becoming fish food.

Trillium the Fair had smiled. 

> _“Not with all of the Honey Mead he drank down. The lovable oaf.”_  

Trillium the Fair had sat down upon the cool, slick crop of shining stones by the sub-nautical cove. 

> _“I would get to work if I were the two of you.”_

Risco and Mo Chou looked at each other. They shared a silent nod before Mo Chou stepped behind him, her glittering wings unfolding and fluttering. She picked Risco up in her arms before lifting into the air and flying into the great, watery advent.  

***

Risco knew that he would never be able to face the orcs and dwarves that had helped with the construction ever again. Not without memories that would make him flush with embarrassment from the sheer insanity of what they were doing.

Oh, were you thinking he would be embarrassed about overseeing the construction of a giant sympathetic onahole? Of  _course_  not, that was the easy part. The overall haste and pressure of the situation had been unbearable.

But, after a month of feverish building, it was done. When the great blue structure, and the normal-sized armband, were completed, Trillium the Fair had insisted that Risco and Mo Chou accompanied him to see Siklon's reaction to his  _perfect_  gift.

Of course, he told them to stay near the outside of Siklon's cavern since the aquatic guardian would be awake this time.

The two of them listened in, hearing the baying ship horn bring in the massive Goldenrod Bond.

Silence.

…

Still silence, save for the splashing waves of Siklon's cove and the drip of dew from the cavern rood.

> **“ _TRILLIUM... WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”_**
> 
> _“A present, of course.”_
> 
> **“ _I SUPPOSE I WALKED RIGHT INTO THAT – I MEANT WHAT IS THE PRESENT, TRILLIUM?”_**
> 
> _“Just a little present for you and your Little Bird. To help you two better enjoy each other's company.”_
> 
> **“ _I DON'T NEED YOU INTERFERING WITH MY LOVE OR SEX LIFE, TRILLIUM.”_**
> 
> _“Just try it, would you? Think about it, when was the last time you had a good fuck? You could do with the stress relief.”_
> 
> **“ _WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND THIS THING?”_**
> 
> _“I know a couple. Also, this_ _cost_ _me a fair_ _Costage_ _, Siklon. You had better well use it at least once.”_

The cavern quaked, caused by Siklon's frustrated growl. Mo Chou held onto Risco, gripping him tight.

> **“ _FINE.”_  **

The cavern filled with a rush of humid air as Siklon's gills exhaled.

Risco all but passed out in Mo Shou's arms. “Lord, I am too pretty to be put through this much stress!”

***

It wasn't even a week before the screaming harpy-bitch known as stress and anxiety came rearing her ugly head.

“Damn, damn,  _damn_!” Risco tugged his ascot out of its tie and wiped the deluge of sweat from his brow. “Why did I take the job?!” He complained to the skies, Mo Chou following him to the waterfalls which marked the limits of ShimmerGale, Aquacia just a jump away. “Damn it, Mo Chou, you should go back home! If Siklon decides to eat me, I want you to be safe at least!”

Mo Chou shook her head. “I'm not leaving your side that easily.”

Risco turned his head to face the roaring falls. “Damn it, Mo Chou... Why are you so damn perfect?”

The body of water at the base of the falls exploded, pure water flooding down from the air. Siklon's head rose up from the churning waves, all six of his eyes focused on the two creatures trembling in front of his might.

> **“ _ARE THE TWO OF YOU...”_**  

He growled, 

> **_“THE ONES WHO MADE THE GIFT TRILLIUM THE FAIR GAVE TO ME?”_ **

Risco placed himself in front of Mo Chou before he nodded. The weight of Siklon's gaze was pressing down upon them. But Risco refused to look away. Risco refused to move. Risco was knocked off of his hooves when the earth next to him and Mo Chou shook. They slowly turned to the left, seeing the rotting remains of a grand pirate ship: the hull cracked open, gold coins and rare emeralds, rubies, and sapphires spilling out onto the ground.

Risco and Mo Chou couldn't move. Their hearts slammed against their chests, and they could barely breathe, let alone realize that Siklon had just given them enough money to save their business six times over.

> **“ _NOW, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME,”_**  

Siklon grinned with all of his teeth, 

> **_“I NEED TO MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME WITH MY LITTLE BIRD...”_**  

Siklon sank back underneath the waves and, soon, the area was practically back to normal aside from the two creatures trying to come to terms with their shock.

Risco looked around, from the ship to the falls to the skies.

He then looked down at his crotch. “Don't ask me when and don't ask me  _how,_ but is it bad that I'm sportin' a semi right now?”

***

Risco pulled the van into the garage, his memories fading into the present day. He decided that he could get the raw materials in at his leisure, but after the delay of that  _fucking Mammoth-dragon,_  he figured that Mo Chou would be starving.

“Hey! Baby-girl,” He announced, walking in with boxes of food, “I... I...” He didn't know why but he just wanted to take a good look at Eros and Mine. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, how meeting the love of his life had worked out so well. He had a business that was thriving, a reputation that was glowing...

“Oh, you're back!” Mo Chou walked out from behind the counter. When she was close enough she nuzzled her head against Risco's cheek. “Mm, that smells really good. Are you ready to eat?”

A soft smile graced Risco's lips at sight of the beautiful creature next to him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, carrying the food to the counter, “I'm starving.”

 

 

“ _Yeah?” Risco chuckled, bumping his hip into her side. “You like that? The name's Risco, what can I call you besides 'baby-girl'?”_

_Mo Chou thought for a second. She then decided that she wanted to see where this was all going to go. “Mo Chou.”_

 

“ _Mo Chou, huh?” Risco smirked, “Well, I fo' sho want some more Mo Chou.”_


	21. A Tributary Interlude

* * *

 

 

In the eyes of one Captain Izumi Oshiro, the guardian of Aquacia was one of the most breath-taking creatures in all of Dama Fristad.

So... what if Izumi, even upon the tips of his talons, couldn't reach the height of Siklon's smallest claw?

So what if his years on this earth were no more than a flicker compared to the eons that Siklon had been watching over the seas? So what if the idea of the two sharing anything resembling intimacy was inconceivable?

Well, that last point was less a factor when you were determined enough. And also had enough money or patience.

Izumi watched the great guardian fit a new archway near the center of the district.

> _**“LET'S SEE...”**_  

Siklon hummed to himself while checking the measurements of the new piece he had carved last night. 

> _**“SHIT...**_ _ **I'M**_ _ **GOING TO HAVE TO CARVE NEW COLUMNS, THE DESIGNS DON'T MATCH.”**_  

Siklon set the piece in its proper place and took a mental note of what he needed to carve out later that night. 

> _**“ALRIGHT.”**_  

Siklon turned to Izumi and grinned that monstrous grin. 

> _**“I STILL OWE YOU A PROPER DATE.”** _

“Siklon, no.” Izumi flew over to land on Siklon's nose, “It isn't as though you were expecting a Hunter strike yesterday. And it was just dinner.”

Siklon frowned and rested his scaly elbow on a nearby road. 

> _**“NEVER DISMISS THE POWER OF A GOOD MEAL, LITTLE BIRD.”** _

Izumi's face burned and he turned his face away. “Please don't call me that in public.” He did lower his hand to scratch at the edge of the nearest scale.

Siklon's rumbling purr, for what else could the noise have been, erupted from the beast's chest and flooded into the waters.

> _**“HEY...”**_  

Siklon's six eyes looked to his tiny lover, 

> _**“WHEN DO YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE STATION?”** _

Siklon, I'm not going to your place when I have work.” Izumi didn't need to think for too long about what the guardian was hinting at. “You can wait until I have off next.”

> “ _ **THAT'S A**_ **WEEK** _ **FROM NOW! DAMN THESE FUCKING HUMANS AND THEIR DAMNED HUNTERS!”**_  

Siklon growled, waves forming around him.

Izumi didn't budge. “You'll just have to wait. Trust me,” Izumi stood and spread his wings to take flight once more, “I was looking forward to it.”

And he honestly was. Izumi Oshiro was the cream of the elite crop of both DFPD as well as the karasu-tengu living in the city. The lifts of his wings were always up; the muscles in his legs were always tense.

Being with Siklon, a being able to dwarf his entire existence ten-thousand times over and still be a vast mystery onto the universe... Being surrounded by mammoth scales with edges sharp enough to tear through submarines...

Being enclosed by deadly claws that rose up as ancient trees...

Izumi could let himself fall. He could allow himself to rely on something else, someone else.

He didn't have to be a police captain. He didn't have to be a perfect son. He didn't have to be a big brother.

He flapped his wings and flew down to the sharp interlocking points of Siklon's fangs. He leaned his head forward, his beak giving the softest peck to the gigantic fang in front of him.

“I love you.”

Siklon, for as angry as he was, immediately melted. 

> _**“OH, LITTLE BIRD...”**_  

He raised his hand and scratched Izumi's head with the tip of his claw. It took all of Izumi's strength to keep himself airborne. But he couldn't stop the gossamer coo that bubbled up from his throat. 

> _**“MY PERFECT LITTLE BIRD.”** _


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? I feel like we should have a nice, simple normal chapter. Let's be Normal, and read about a Normal study-date, with a Normal exchange student tentacle-bleb and their Normal friends. 
> 
> Normal is Normal Normal.

* * *

 

 

 

 

Thick biceps bulged and flexed as orcs, some clad in leotards, others only in tight shorts, lifted weights as thick as tree trunks.

Kirins, banshees, and Furies all jogged down their measured routes on dwarf-built treadmills.

There were numerous gyms in Dama Fristad. Most of them served both human and nonhuman clientele. However the need for equipment and atmosphere made for honing the cream of the crop called for some locations to kick humans out of the equation.

One such nonhuman-only gym was where Odysseus was training one of his newest clients.

“Come on!!” The minotaur bellowed down at the young siren/harpy mix straining on the leg lift machine, “Stop wasting my time if you're just going to pussy out!!”

“'Wasting time'?!” The siren/harpy mix groaned. The muscles in her legs jumped and flexed in a desperate attempt to keep the half-ton plates at bay. “I'm trying my hardest, you asshole!!”

Odysseus waggled his fingers and mocked her, “'I'm trying my hardest, weh, weh~'! Your hardest is _shit!!_ ”

“That's... IT!!” The harpy/siren mix kicked away the plates. She flapped her wings, keeping her body at eye-level with her, let's be frank, beyond shitty personal trainer. “What the hell is your damage, you roided-out moron?! How the hell are you supposed to be getting me ready for my marathon if you can't even get your head out of your ass?! You have to be the biggest dick this side of the men's sauna, you --” She seized Odysseus's chin with her claws and forced his head up. “Stop looking at my tits. You don't even take my strengths and weaknesses into account! I'm supposed to be doing a marathon, why aren't we doing cardi – Stop looking at my tits!”

Odysseus gave an angry snort as his chin was forced up once more.

“I never should have hired you. Mom said she had the number to a guy but, no~! I had to go with my gut and – Damn it!” She forced the minotaur's chin up, keeping her claws put. “Stop looking at my  _fucking_  tits!” She hissed. Honestly, some fucking people man.

“Hey,” Odysseus continued on, ignoring the fury on the harpy-siren mix's features and keeping his eyes on her chest, “You wanna fuck?”

The harpy-siren mix gawked at Odysseus. She looked down to his hooves, up to the prominent bulge in his shorts.

“You fucking pig,” She glared at him, “I oughta--”

***

Odysseus slowly roused from slumber the following afternoon.

The first thing he wanted to reach for was his phone. He wasn't training anyone today and he needed everyone who was blowing up his messenger to get that.

His hand ghosted over soft feathers. Warmth fluttered underneath them in a slow beat.

“The fuck?” The minotaur sat up, pulling away sheets to reveal his client.

She was quick to respond to the sudden air on her feathers. “Mm, hey.” The harpy-siren mix grinned up at Odysseus, “Last night was pretty kickass.”

“Man...” Odysseus dug a finger into one of his nostrils, “Why are you still here?”

“Tch,” The harpy-siren mix sat up, Odysseus getting another good look at her breasts, “You're cute. So, what are your plans for the rest of--”

***

“ _Out ya go_ , bitch!” Odysseus kicked open the front door, boxers hastily pulled up, and tossed the harpy-siren mix out. He slammed the door behind himself, scratching his butt and going back to his room.

Not even a second later, Odysseus walked out of his room; dressed in stale clothes from the day before.

He walked to the kitchen, shoving past Zach and Nephubos to get the things he needed for a smoothie: a carton of eggs, Adonis Milk brand protein powder ('It May Not Turn You Into a God, But It'll Make You Feel Like One! … Maybe.'), vitamins, two Honeycomb Bananas (the perfect combination of gooey and sweet, tended to by a princess's hands), and three pounds of tender Sweet Grass from ShimmerGale. Into the blender it all went, a generous amount splashing onto the counter before he thought to cover it.

Odysseus's ears flicked, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he yawned.

The clogging assortment of ingredients choked the blender: the poor machine wishing it had written its final will and testament. Odysseus soon got bored with the machine's struggle. Luckily, he pulled out a pair of weights from beneath the kitchen table. He walked over to Zach and Nephubos, a fifty-pound weight in each hand. “What are you two fags doing? Being gay?”

Zach glanced over at Odysseus. His eyes took a downward elevator towards the minotaur's boxers. The elevator shot back up. “You really have no reason to overcompensate, but okay.” He set a pitcher of iced tea on the table. “So, between the cake that Silas made, the Chicken Tandoori from Suraj, and my iced tea, you should be all set food-wise.”

_'Yes, yes!'_  Nephubos clapped two of their tentacles together.  _'We have many thanks for you, Zachary! This is our first time preparing for the ritual known as, um...'_  The tentacle-bleb reached into themselves to pull out the sparkly pink notebook that they had taken a liking to. Flipping to the needed page, they read out,  _'Ss... Mm. Stuuu-dy Date?'_

“'Study Date'.” Zach gave Nephubos a pat on the head, “You're getting better at your reading.”

All three of Nephubos's eyes lit up. They looked down at their notebook again, Zach taking the chance to wipe his slimy hand on his hip.

_'Are you really thinking so?'_  Nephubos gave a nod.  _'Yes. Yes, we will be sure to try harder!'_

Odysseus had more or less checked out once Zach had said 'study date'. “Gruh...” He walked over to the main room, smoothie in one hand, both weights in the other. “This place is going to be full of dumpy, nerdy co-eds. Why can't any of you bring nice pieces of tail home?”

Mira was flipping through channels on the TV. The eye on the inside of his chest rolled, tongue curling up. “Shut up.” Mira pouted, “I'm trying to find something good with our shitty cable package.”

It really wasn't shitty at all, having quite a few hundred channels, both human-centric and nonhuman-centric. Mira just wanted to bitch and pout.

The creamy consistency of his shake belied the bitter notes underneath, the ensemble soaking Odysseus's tongue.

“Hey.” He swallowed, watching Zach head for the door. “Fuck are you going?”

“I have to pick up a new table for the balcony.” He jabbed a thumb towards the sliding glass doors. Outside one could see the splintered remains of the table: the majority of said splinters having gone with the backside of the dragon that crushed them. “Thank God for Ass-Insurance, I guess.”

“Hello!” A bipedal dragon walked onto the TV screen, a wraith on the other side. “You know, life is just full of those awful,  _awful_  unexpected occurrences.”

_“And it's far better to be prepared for the worst rather than left high and dry.”_

Both dragon and wraith bowed, jumped up, and pointed to the posters behind them. “Call now to get a quote on our special brand of A.S.S. Insurance!” The dragon said.

_“'Accidental Subjugation or Shattering' Insurance.”_  The wraith explained,  _“We guarantee prompt and succinct coverage for any unexpected disasters or destruction of property.”_

Both dragon and wraith stayed quiet for a moment. They looked to one another. “Even if a dragon falls from flight and crashes their  _fat ass_  into your patio furniture.” The dragon said, the wraith reassuring,

_“ **Especially**  if a dragon falls from flight and crashes their fat ass into your patio furniture.”_

Mira changed the channel. “Fuck, this is so boring! I can't even go raiding because all my guild-members are busy until sundown!”

Odysseus grinned, “We could always fuck with whoever the slime-ball is having over.”

Mira perked up instantly. “ _Hey_ , I like how you think. We--”

_**THOOM!** _

The coffee table nearly cracked with the weight of the pink box Zach slammed down. “You.” He pointed to Mira, face impassive as the norm. “This is yours if you leave Nephubos alone.”

Mira folded his arms, the tongue of his chest poking the box open. The dark, decadent chocolate... The slight crisp of caramel that would yield to the smooth satin of flan...

_“Chocoflan?!”_  Mira seized the box, his eyes bright as a giddy giggle left him. He broke it, though, to tell Odysseus, “Yeah, you're on your own.”

“Son of a bitch!” Odysseus just missed the chance to strangle the mimic, Mira taking the Chocoflan and locking himself up in his chest.

“And you.” Odysseus choked when Zach pulled him down to his eye-level. “Please don't fuck this up for Nephubos with your awful overcompensation.”

Odysseus exhaled roughly, his breath tussling Zach's hair. Zach let him go, grabbing his wallet and leaving the condo.

Odysseus walked back to the kitchen, tossing his cup into the sink. He just didn't want to be fucking bothered today, was that so much to ask?

Nephubos, meanwhile, nudged the cake to the side a few millimeters. “Visitor!” The doorfairies chimed from outside. Nephubos clapped their tentacles and slithered to the door.

_'Oh, this is is so exciting!'_  Nephubos eased the door open,  _'You all made it here in one safe piece. We are so glad!'_

Odysseus leaned over the counter, rapping fingertips against the marble surface of the counter. Zeus's lightning, this was going to  _suck_! He rolled his eyes and nearly fell from his seat when the motion gave him the window to see the co-eds walking in through the door.

“Hi Nephubos!” One of the girls said.

“Thanks for inviting us over.” Said another.

“Wow, this place is really nice.” Said the third.

Nephubos's guests... Holy crap, they were actually kind of cute. One would think that the 'hot, young co-ed' cliché was just that. But these girls... Odysseus could actually entertain the option of getting it up for these girls.

Nephubos had led their three classmates to the main couch.  _'Oh.'_  They looked around,  _'We seem to have forgotten our textbooks. Please to be waiting the moment!'_

Nephubos crawled away, his door opening with that unworldly din of shrieks flooding the air.

The door slammed, the three girls talking amongst themselves: the package one of them was carrying being the stem of conversation. The girl holding it gave a nod, “I think they're really gonna li--”

“Hey.” Odysseus walked over. He had rolled up his sleeves so his arm muscles would get the best venue when he flexed. “See you girls have a package there.” He tossed a smoldering smirk in their collective direction, “I've got a nice package too. You wanna check it out?”

The three girls looked Odysseus up. Then down. Up one more time. “Eugh.” They all grimaced.

Wait.

What.

The.

FUCK?! These bitches did not just 'eugh' at him! Odysseus, Dama Fristad's best nonhuman personal trainer, did not get 'eugh'ed at!

_'We have returned!'_  Nephubos announced with a stack of books almost squishing them into the floor as he walked.  _'Perhaps we should have brought the wagon.'_

“Oh!” The three girls rushed to Nephubos's aid: one of them getting the books away while the other two helped the tentacle-bleb onto the couch. “You poor thing~!”

“You could have gotten yourself hurt~!”

“Oh, you poor squishy cutie~! One of the girls cooed, rubbing her cheek against Nephubos without a single wince.

_'Ah!'_  Nephubos was filled with joy, making them let out a diabetes-inducing squeal. It made their classmates coo more; getting even closer.

Odysseus's eyes could barely linger upon the scene without feeling his throat begin to lurch.

***

Nephubos was scribbling in his notebook, his classmates either doing the same, typing on a laptop, or highlighting passages in one of the textbooks.

Odysseus peeked out from behind a hall corner. Okay, so: operation 'Get Some – College Edition' was off to a shaky start. “I'm not about to let this ball of snot show me up.” He ground his teeth, looking every bit the role of the cud-chewing cow.

Nephubos lifted their sparkly pen to ask the trio,  _'We really appreciate Professor Kmuohupsau's teachings. She is very knowledgeable.'_  Nephubos held a tentacle to the space that would have been a cheek on a person.  _'We wonder how long they have resided upon this planet.'_

They went back to studying. The girl with the package in her lap turned to their bright-eyed host. “Hey, Nephubos?”

_'Yes?'_  Nephubos looked over,  _'Were you in need of--'_

“Think fast!” Odysseus jumped onto the couch, shooting Nephubos to the ceiling in a trilling panic. He laid himself out: arms behind his head, ripped pecs and arms showed off for the three human girls.

“Hey.” Odysseus clicked his tongue at the trio, “S'up. See anything you like?” He chuckled to himself, “Yeah, I know it. Ever been with someone who can dead-lift three buses and a tank?” He sat up, closing his eyes, “My gains are pretty fucking sol--”

“Don't worry!”

“We got you!”

“Come on down whenever you're ready!”

The trio had positioned themselves in a circle beneath Nephubos. Their words were gentle coos; they were sympathetic doves extending their wings for a safe rescue. Odysseus snorted out a puff of steam, glaring at the scene.

***

Three hours of cramming meant it was time to take a lunch break. “Mm, it smells so good!” One of the girls dug right into the Chicken Tandoori.

“Thank you.” Suraj said, the rakshasa doing yoga on the patio: carefully avoiding the ruined patio furniture.

Odysseus rapped his knuckles against the dining table. He shoveled the spicy chicken into his mouth, seething at the sight in front of him. His hoof was beginning to make marks in the floor.

“Hey, I brought something good for dessert.” One of the trio said. She reached into the package quick and shut it as soon as she got it out. It was a peach. Perfectly round, a gorgeous pink flush making up the flesh; parted only by a lone fresh leaf.

“My grandparents in Japan sent this over as a good luck gift. But I wanted to share it with you guys. Here Nephubos,” She handed it to the tentacle-bleb, “You can have the first bite.”

Nephubos's gasp floated into the room. Was this planet full of unceasing  _wonders_? They had never seen something so pink, so round, so...  _Fuzzy!_

They took the peach and stared for a long moment.

The package gave a small jerk, the girl holding it pressing her hands on top. It calmed down.

Nephubos set the peach upon their head. They waited for it to stop trying to roll off. When it stayed balanced, the tentacle-bleb was so overjoyed that they gave another squeal.

The trio of girls clutched at their chest, throat, and hands. “They're too cute~!” They all sighed.

Odysseus punched a fist into the table. “He's a ball of  _slime_!” He spat his words out with half-chewed Jasmine rice, “This shit's ironic,  _right?!_  Like... like hipsters who drink crappy beers and insist they're hot shit, right?!”

The minotaur was ignored as the trio of girls took pictures of Nephubos: gushing all the while.

Mira's chest decided to open up at that moment, though the mimic looked a bit worse for wear. The signs of a sugar-hangover, bleary eyes, slurring words, were apparent. “Bleh...” He held back a belch, “Too much Chocoflan. Which,” He reached his tongue for the remote, “Is to say: 'not enough'.” He turned on the TV, a breaking news report flashing forth. Something along the lines of an missing infant. The poor thing had been snatched right from their crib the previous night.

Abelard walked into the kitchen, straight from the door when he got home from the station. “Don't waste food.” The European Wendigo forced Odysseus to shut his gaping mouth before getting some food for himself.

***

Traffic was slowing down in Centerpointe. “Well...” One of the trio sighed, “I guess we should get going before the gargoyles and Spring-Heeleds start filling up the evening train.” “Aw...” Two of the girls whined along with Nephubos. It was too soon for the fun to end yet.

_'But...'_  Nephubos's eyes shifted to the floor.  _'We will be seeing you three in class tomorrow, yes?'_

“Of course!” The three girls shouted in unison.

“We wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“Even if I was sick with pneumonia I would risk my lungs filling with blood to see you.”

Abelard looked up from the book he was reading in the kitchen. Wait, what had she just said –

The trio of girls gathered their things. Each of them gave Nephubos a long, sticky hug before they went to the door.

Odysseus was already there. He wasn't blocking the door but he was wrapping an arm around the top doorjamb. “Ladies.” He gave them a couple of finger-guns and another smirk.

They all ignored him and walked out the door; nary giving a second thought.

Nephubos crawled over to their room, a bit sad but thankful. 'We would call that ritual a resounding success! And we can take notes on what we have learned!' They slipped inside of their room with a howling screech leaving the doors.

Everyone was going about their business. Save for Odysseus. The minotaur's eyes twitched, his hoof clawed against the floor, he grit his teeth.

The damn shattered.

“ _FFFUUUUUCKK_ _!!_ ” Odysseus bellowed, tugging at his hair and seeing red, “I don't GET IT! How's that fucking jizz-stain getting more attention than me?! For Zeus's sake!” He stomped to the ground, veins pulsing in his arms and neck, “THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE  _A DICK!!_ ”

_'DICK!'_

_'Dick!'_

_'Dick...'_

The last bit of Odysseus's outburst knocked against the nooks and crannies of the condo and even outside to the doorfairies; the mother of the small family covering her youngest child's ears.

Odysseus stood in the center of the main room: panting and still trembling in quiet rage.

“Some girls are just  _way_  more into tentacles!” Gahiji bounced by, having just come in from who knows where. “I'm starving... Ooh! Is that Chicken Tandoori?”

The door opened with a brief announcement from the doorfairies.

“Stop yelling. You'll wake the neighbors.” Zach said as he rolled the new table into the condo.

***

When the trio got back to their dormitory after a good chunk of a train ride, they didn't go straight to their shared dorm-room.

“Well, that could have gone better.” One of them said.

“Seriously,” Another added, “What the hell was with that asshole buzzing around?”

The three walked to the basement of the dorm. The one with the package handed it off so she could lock the door behind them. “At least we got to spend some time with Nephubos. I just wish we hadn't gone through all that trouble.”

They all sighed. One of them went to light a few candles. Another fell to her knees on the floor. She retrieved a piece of glowing chalk that had been tossed aside on the ground.

Her hands scratched at the ground with the chalk in wide, scrawling letters.

No.

Symbols.

Symbols that were incomprehensible by most men. But they had taken in the scribe, the manners, when Nephubos had first showed them how to spell their name in his natural tongues.

“Look at the brighter side! They took the peach!” One of the trio said, retrieving a charcoal sketch of the tentacle-bleb from her bag. “That has to stand for something!”

“But...” The girl holding the package reached into it. She pulled out, by its leg, with no ceremony, an infant who was starting to snuffle: the chloroform starting to wear off. “What do we do with this?”

The girl with the picture set it in front of the room. She turned back and grabbed the baby, giving a little shrug.

A roach peeked out of its hiding spot. One look at the scene had it scuttling back in.

“We can still sacrifice it.” A grin, easily pulled to manic tightness, grew upon her lips.

The other two were feverish in their agreements. “Yeah! I don't know why I didn't think of that, duh!”

“We can do it in their name! Ooh-ooh!” She clapped her hands together, “We can pen down a prayer tonight!”

They set the whimpering infant in the almost-center of their frantic scribblings. One of them reached into her backpack and pulled out a knife: curved blade, ebony handle. “'See this gift'-- Wait.” The girl with the knife folded her arms, “Get into position!”

“Oh,” One of the other girls giggled, “Right. Silly me!”

The three girls formed a triangle around the glowing chalk lines and the wriggling babe inside of the swirling chaos. “Alright, let's try this again.”

The girl with the knife raised it, the blade climbing higher and higher with her improvised words. “'See this gift! And, with it, accept us as your blessed ones amongst all others!'”

“Ooh~!” One of them bounced on the balls of her feet. “This is so exciting~!” The other girl shushed her.

“'We', um... 'Ask that you use this sacrifice to bless us!'” The girl with the knife said, blade up to its highest point. She grinned, a laugh in her voice, “'Nephubos! Accept our offering!'”

She plunged the knife down, blood spraying onto her hands. The infant, helpless in all other ways, squalled out in abrupt pain.

The knife was forced down. Again.

Again.

_Again!_

Blood splashed over her hands, droplets of sanguine life catching upon her face, her hair.

Some stray drops got to the other girls, but it wasn't the full brunt of the signal of this wretched act.

The basement soon went quiet. The candles fluttered with the exhausted breaths.

The trio looked to the ground, to the blood sinking into the chalk beneath their feet.

They all exhaled: weight and tension leaving their bones.

“... Oh,  _shoot!_ ” One of the girls jumped up, wiping her cheek and smearing blood across it in the process. “I should have written that down! Gah!” She ran to her bag to find a notebook. “Hopefully I can remember!”

As their friend struggled to jot down what she could, the other two girls looked over their little alter.

“Do you think they'll like it?”

The girl with the knife smiled. A bit of blood rolled down to stain her teeth. “Well, duh!” She smiled before leaning down to pick up the bloody bits of unformed muscle and fat. “Of course they'll like it. They'll love it! After all...”

She set the remains in a ceramic bowl. Pat-pat-patting around her pockets gave her a lighter. She rubbed her thumb over the spark-wheel, producing a new flame. She tossed it in. The pitiful flames slowly caught upon the rim of the bowl. Flecks of blue and orange reached up to the air, the girl with the knife turning around: her visage in shadows but her smile shining white.

 

“ _... Every new god needs their acolytes.”_

***

Nephubos was bouncing upon their tentacles, waiting for Abelard to introduce them to the wonder of 'midnight ice cream'.

Their entire form jiggled as a shiver ran through them.

“Are you alright young one?” Abelard stopped scooping out Schokoladenkaramel for a second. “I hope you're not becoming feverish. Although...” He rubbed his free hand over his beard, “Can your kind succumb to fevers?”

Nephubos looked around. Their three eyes blinked but they couldn't even think to ask what a 'fever' was?

Was it this feeling that bubbled up deep inside their form? This sensation that splintered out into their reaches like lancing poison?


	23. Do Elves Dream of Sweet-Smelling Sheep?

* * *

 

 

The ShimmerGale Open Market was a whirlwind of commerce, as per the usual.

“Winterberries!” A triad of pixies called out, “Harvested fresh from the Frageel Ridge in Aquacia!”

Dwarves mounted up into trucks, driving down the roads towards the Septette Mines to get their quotas done for the week.

A gentle wash of water droplets fell over several rows of potted flowers; petals the shade of blood and stems of deep amethyst. “Bring your beloved to your beck and call with my alluring Mesme Blooms.” The mermaid minding the booth showed off her wares, ignored by the passersby. She gave a pout. “Hey!” A splash of her tail sent some water splashing from the basin she was in onto her assistant. “Push me closer to the road! No one can see me from behind the table!”

A human girl, soaked to the bone, trudged over. “This is so not worth the internship credit.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” The girl sighed, pushing the basin.

***

A large hand surged into a tub of water, pulling back with a carp lashing this way and that in a desperate attempt to escape. “Boy! Keep'er steady...” A Sasquatch told his son and employees as they brought it onto a large polished stump serving as a counter, a display...

A heavy machete was hefted up.

… A cutting board.

The younger Sasquatch gave the carp a mighty crack with the machete, most of the fish's brilliant scales falling to the stump in a vibrant shower.

The human employees were quick to sweep the scales away, knowing that they would sell well in other districts.

The carp, still flinching and jerking, was slapped onto the stump. The main Sasquatch seized the machete from his son and

_WHACK!_

_WHACK!_

_WHACK!_

The carp was sliced into several pieces. “Get 'em out there, boy.”

The fish was carried out to a crowd of humans and nonhumans who owned upstart food-trucks and booths in ShimmerGale, all having waited since morning to buy fish. Not everyone could afford direct shipping from Aquacia; nor the time it would take to fish some up locally.

Pixies zipped across the Open-Market, one of them gushing over something on the mirror-like object in their hand. “Did you guys hear the latest single from Rubi De la D?”

“By Trillium the Fair's Sun-kissed Hair,” Another pixie chirped, “That shit is fire!”

Flowers, herbs, and berries were hocked, bartered and traded; the flow steady like a coursing river.

***

Each hoof had its own platinum shoe covering it. He was far too proud of his Ovin wards to expose them to the elements.

It meant he would be doing less work later on as well. Best of both worlds.

He relaxed on top of his mount. One could almost fall asleep with how even, how gentle her hoof-beats were. The sunlight danced over his body in warm caresses and flicks. Along the curls of his hair, especially, the sunlight swirled and entwined itself into the dark.

Everywhere he went he received calls of praise, minute lyrics of adoration. As was the norm for ShimmerGale's guardian, Trillium the Fair.

“Lord Trillium the Fair!” The owner of a baking shop addressed the guardian. “The skies are shining that much brighter with you here!”

> _“But of course they would, Fah Beast. Here.”_  

He gave his mount a gentle tap on one of her horns that curved upwards like winter's holly.

She let out a low bleat and stamped a hoof to the ground: the saddlebag on her right opening up.

“Ah!” The baker inhaled the sweet smell that wafted under his snout. It was enough that Trillium the Fair's mount brought the scent of frothy, sweet cream and silken sweet petals. But the bounty they found in that saddlebag bore a smell that remained ever sweeter.

“Cheese made from the milk of Trillium the Fair's Fae-Ewes!” The baker still couldn't believe their blessing. Even the most uninitiated in Dama Fristad knew that Trillium the Fair never parted with anything relating to his prized Fae-Ewes: the glorious creatures with silken wool that smelled of sweet milk and fresh herbs or fruit. The gentle creatures with docile countenances and focused eyes.

In fact, the only place that got regular deliveries of the cheese that was soft to the touch like spring moss was the Keebalah Culinary Institute.

Trillium the Fair let the baker get what he needed before having his mount close the bag. 

> _“Come along.”_  

Trillium the Fair gave his mount a soft kick in the side, the Fae-Ewe bleating and starting down the practiced route back to the glade of Trillium the Fair.

> _“It will be bathing and grooming for all of you in the stables.”_  

Trillium the Fair told his mount. 

> _“You'll enjoy that, won't you Fah One?”_

The Fae-Ewe bleated up at her master before continuing down the forest path. The wind blew through, leaves of verdant variations and shapes shaking loose and fluttering down around mount and rider.

Trillium laid back. He rested his staff in his hands, eyes falling shut.

This time of year was so

 

_Beautiful._

***

SouCalifornia had, more or less, done...  _fairly_  with the changing of times. It all depended on who you knew or where you lived. Though water was always an issue, growing into more of one as the years went on.

Maybe you lived near the coast, where it was easy to make a living off of the land and sea. You just had to have a dedicated filter and a sturdy blockade for your home for the storms.

If you lived further inland, though. Then your safest bet would be to hook up with someone whose family had a farm of some sort. Easy water-access, produce, employment.

“GRRAAAHHH!!”

A plate shattered against faded wallpaper, only missing its true target by a few inches and a quick dodge.

“Got- _dang_ , Sarah-Lynn!” The shout came from a young man in stained overalls and old boots. “How are we gonna get more dishes if ya break 'em all?”

A young woman with a pronounced baby-bump merely scoffed. She tapped her bare foot against the dusty floor, shooting a glare at the young man. “Not like we have any use for 'em! We ain't had a decent meal in months! Because you suck at providin' – I should never have hooked up with you!”

The young man's name was Carter and he let out a low exhale, turning around to rummage through the dilapidated kitchen to try and find something edible.

They had some aged fruit, some potatoes, but not much in the way of meat.

“We got quinoa.” Carter said, “Tomatoes, carrots... I could make a salad.”

“Uggghhh!” Sarah-Lynn dumped herself into a creaky chair. “Would it be too much to ask for a steak? A burger? Somethin'?!”

Carter couldn't believe they were going to go through this again. But...

“Sarah-Lynn, we got money to keep the water going or to hunt down a meat convoy. We can't have both!”

Sarah Lynn rubbed her hand against her stomach. She pouted, chin on her hand and eyes boring into the cracked window. How had those window panes looked before? Did the family who lived here before take pride in them? A housewife dusting the sill and mending the curtains; children peeking out to see their father arriving home from work. Would that have been the night that they would have gotten the news? That their home was no longer safe?

That they would have to abandon everything that had been built up? Just to have a glimmer of survival?

Sarah-Lynn looked away from the window. She gave a sardonic little smile in Carter's direction.

“I was talkin' to one of the old ladies from down the street. She was tellin' me that there's still a place you can get meat for really cheap.”

Carter's eyebrows shot to the top of his head. “What?! Well, dang it, why didn't you say so earlier?”

Sarah-Lynn crooked a finger to herself, watching Carter come closer. “Mm-hm. For free, even. Wanna hear?”

Of course Carter wanted to hear! It had been ages since he had a good raw steak! They could put it on the grill, bake some potatoes, make some gravy--

Sarah-Lynn seized him by the throat, pulling him down and hissing at him. “You are gonna go into Dama Fristad and get me a Fae-Ewe.”

***

He felt like an ocean's worth of pressure was crushing him from all sides. “Shit, shit..!” Carter whispered to himself as he tried to find... It.

 

“ _You're gonna have to go to ShimmerGale.” Sarah-Lynn had told him, “It's the district with all the high-falutin' trees and whatnot. Go in there, don't draw attention to yerself, and find the glade of their prissy-pants elf-leader Trillium.”_

 

Carter glanced behind himself. He repeated the frantic gesture every few steps he took, keeping his footfalls as gentle against the damp cement as possible. All he had on him was a simple backpack. If shit went south, he was  _fucked_.

The gates in front of him reached far into the clouds, far beyond what he could see. He was careful as he walked by fields of earth long-scorched by some ancient flame. If they weren't enough, there was the massive series of clear, circular rivers that had been gouged into the earth. He had often heard about how, even if you had a boat, it was hard to cross these moat-like structures if you didn't have permission.

Whatever 'permission' entailed.

Same with the gates. Carter wasn't one to put too much weight in the magical, mystical hoo-hah that surrounded this city. But he knew all about how some people who made the mistake of touching the gates and ended up greasy lumps of charred flesh upon the ground.

Which is why Carter was trying to find...  _It._

He didn't know who made it. He had never had a reason to try and find it before, but there was a way inside that those in Dama Fristad had yet to pin down the location of.

Carter looked around once more and, thank his luck stars, he saw it.

Marked by a rough engraving of a rose and hammer, Carter saw the break in the gate that led into a fall of darkness the size of a full-grown man. It rushed like water in his ears, and expelled any light that tried to come in.

Carter glanced back once more.

No going back now.

He jumped into the falls –

***

– Falling into a small alley between two tree-hewn shops.

He fell to the grassy ground, coughing from the shock of fast travel and impact. Carter slowly lifted his head, whistling as he drank in his surroundings. “Well, slather me a jam and call me a biscuit...” How many years had it been since he had seen such pure, vibrant signs of life as he saw in ShimmerGale? Those pathetic, withered roots at home had nothing on the soft mosses, thick swaying branches, and fragrant blooms here.

“Okay Carter.” He dusted himself off and gave a simple nod to himself. “Time to go find us a sheep.” It wasn't like he had much of a choice, either. Not just because he was in too deep.

 

“ _I ain't too sure 'bout this, Sarah-Lynn...” Carter rubbed the back of his neck. “This seems awful dangerous.”_

_Sarah-Lynn had rolled her eyes. “Get me that Fae-Ewe or else I'm tellin' my daddy that you are gladly letting me and my baby starve to death!!”_

 

Carter kept his walking confident but still inconspicuous. He couldn't spell that last word, but he knew that he needed to keep himself under the radar of all this creatures lumbering and chattering around him.

He couldn't get distracted. He was here for one thing and one thing only. Fuck the balls of soft light that zipped to and fro. To hell with the nymphs conversing with dryads over hints and notes for aromatherapy blends.

The birds, even! Brilliant splashes of vibrant templates trilling out songs that curled in one's ear with a subtle kiss.

Carter walked along the mossy road, his chin up in the air as he gawked at every bright, lush thing.

He walked past a simple storefront, lovingly crafted baskets in the window. There was a simple table out front. An Ent was crouching in a chair next to it. The living tree, joints all gnarled knots with age, rubbed at the roots in his chin. “Darn saplings...” He grumbled and spat, “Too proud for their plots... Too busy to spend time with their grandpa.” The Ent scratched at the bark on his belly, some of the dead pieces flaking off. A long glance slid back to the table's contents, the Ent spitting once more.

The Ent had just lifted his root-like feet when he saw Carter passing by. “Hey.” He shouted over, “Hey, you!”

Carter jumped two feet into the air. His heart was racing, head turning painfully slow like a creaky flour mill.

Carter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-yeah..? What c-can I do ya for?” Hadn't he been careful? He didn't stick out from the crowd, what had gone wrong?!

The Ent kicked a chair out from the table's other side. “Boy, get on over here and do an old tree a favor.”

There was nothing good coming from refusing and drawing more attention. Carter crawled over two steps.

Then two more.

Then three, taking a seat at last. Sweet Jiminy Christmas, talking  _trees_  now?! What the hell kind of hootenanny didn't this cursed city have?

The Ent raised a mighty hand and Carter braced himself, muscles tightening and breath going short –

“I know humans aren't as bright as they should be.” The Ent lowered his hand to the table, separating the marked pieces of ivory there. “But I ain't leaving this here table until someone plays a rounda dominoes with me.”

Carter deflated into the chair. “Wait...” He looked to the Ent. Then the dominoes. He was just... going to play some dominoes?

The Ent went on about his ungrateful grand-kids and the slow business day. All the while, Carter had time to recollect.

When had he last played? It had to have been... Yes, when he was in high school. He had gone to visit his own grandfather in the retirement facility a state over.

It had been nice.

It had been the last time he had been allowed to.

“Hey!” The Ent hacked out, “Make a move! I'm wiltin' away here!”

Carter shook his head. While he had gone flipping through the photo album of his mind, the Ent had set the dominoes up along matching holds; a lone piece laying on the table.

“O-oh!” Carter looked at his hold of tiles and then to the piece on the table. Fours on either side...

He popped down a tile that was half four and half six.

“There we go!” The Ent slapped his knee and looked his pieces over. “You got business in ShimmerGale? Haven't seen you around before.”

“Just strollin' through.” Carter replied, quick to get back to the game.

It had been such a long time. Was his grandfather still alive?

He dared to look up at the grumbling Ent when he was keyed in on the table.

The scratching of his belly. The grumpy grumbling. It was all so familiar.

 

“ _Sarah-Lynn's a snake in the town well.” His grandfather had told him in no shortage of words._

_Carter's lips went up in a tight grimace. “Grandpa, don't start this again. Come on,” He shuffled the dominoes, the ivory sliding over the black vinyl table cover, “Let's get a game in before I gotta go.”_

“ _Don't even know what kind of leash that bitch has you on.”_

_Carter slammed his fist to the table, dominoes falling to the floor. “Grandpa, stop!” Carter stood to his feet. He tossed a finger into the air, his mouth opening._

_It closed with a shake of his head. “I ain't...” He rested two fingers to his forehead. “I can't keep comin' to see ya if you keep actin' like this.”_

“ _What kind of girl keeps her boyfriend from seeing his family? Huh?!” The old man scratched at his belly._

_Carter stayed quiet. His insides twisted about each other._

“ _She's still tryin' to get you to move to SouCalifornia?” Carter's grandfather asked. “I'dve known it. The place is a hellhole! Specially after the Great Conflict! No one out there but a bunch of lazy, stubborn idiots who can't see the truth for what it is!” He grabbed several domino pieces, not placing them anywhere but keeping them in his hands. “Will you go to Dama Fristad at least?”_

_Carter still said nothing._

_Carter's grandfather was the one to shake his head at that answer. “You lettin' that girl lead you to your own fool end, son. And for what?”_

_Three dominoes were set down on the table. “Do you even know if that baby is yours or not?!”_

 

The table trembled when Carter set down his latest piece: two on one side, five on the other.

“Hey, watch it!”

Carter caught himself: dragging himself out of the hall of the past and returning to the staircase of the present. “Might sorry about that.”

The Ent grumbled again. Something along the trail of 'crazy humans'.

“Dearie me...” Another hunched-over Ent waddled out of the store. “Things are finally slowing down a bit. Thought I'd bring you buds lunch.” She navigated her own gnarled branches and hands through the small city of tiles on the table. Two plates were set down in what little room remained.

The sweet scent struck Carter like a comet. “What is  _that_?” He turned away from the game, the second Ent resting a hand on her cheek.

“Just some Summer Danishes.” The delicate twisting round of gold that encircled a creamy, molten center of white; all topped with fresh berries and roasted nuts.

Carter looked away from the plate. The old Ent across from him had grabbed his own Danish, crumbs already falling down his chin.

It was weightless in his hands. Carter could feel the dozens of flaky layers that made the sweet's base. He wanted to take a bite. His mouth was watering: how long had it been since he had had something rich and sweet like this? Sugar. Flour. Cream. All that had vanished from SouCalifornia in the wake of the Great Conflict.

The Danish trembled in Carter's quaking fingers. He gulped and finally, finally

Took a bite.

The cheese was sweet, thick: spun to a salacious degree of creaminess, with just a hint of earthy salt.

The berries had a bite of tartness to offset their ripe candied flavour. They burst into a melody of tastes, dripping down the back of his tongue.

He couldn't move.

Could scarcely breathe.

It was only partly due to the tears rolling down his face.

Here, in Dama Fristad, where trees still had vibrant green leaves; where life still flourished.

Here, where an old creature would easily pull him over for a game of dominoes.

Here, where food was plenty enough to create such blessings as what he had eaten.

Why was he here? And, more importantly:

 

When... when had his own life stopped being so  _beautiful?_

“My, you ate that so quickly!” The second Ent giggled, setting another Summer Danish in front of the young human. “You must be hungry!”

And Carter was. God  _above_ , he was so hungry for a change in his life! The parch of regret had his stomach cracking in on itself, a thousand times over.

Carter grabbed the second Danish and took a bite.

The second Ent gave a giggle and a nod as she took a Danish for herself. “Yes, the milk from those sweet Fae-Ewes makes all sorts of wonderful things. Medicine, cream, cheese--

“Did you just say  _Fae-Ewes_?!” Carter shouted. The magic fell from his eyes, his true reason for coming to this city clear once more. “Where can I find 'em?! I need to know! Tell me!”

“Boy, what in the name of Trillium the Fair's Sun-kissed Hair has gotten into you?!” The old Ent winced when Carter shot up from his chair, “No one of Eve's womb goes to Trillium's Glen anyway--”

“Trillium's Glen!” Carter peeled out like a bat out of hell, “Got it!”

“Wait!” The Ent reached out after him, “Didn't you hear?!” But Carter was already two blocks away.

Carter kept running.

In the back of his mind, he could have sworn that he heard his grandpa's voice calling out to him.

***

Moss grows on the north side of trees in the human world.

So moss would grow on the side of a tree that faced a source of magic here.

It made sense!

At least Carter thought it made sense.

Nevertheless, the sounds of music, merrymaking, and commerce soon faded out: snuffed out by the neutral expanse of forest he walked into.

He tilted his head back and saw the swaying canopy of these woods. Different than the rest of ShimmerGale: those trees had moved along with the motion of the district. These trees moved in eerie ways; they danced with their branches in minute, soft motions. To ancient songs that no man could hear the words to.

There was something at Carter's foot. “Shit!” He hissed, catching himself from the brief trip of his feet. He turned around but only saw air and swaying grass where he had once been. “Get it together, Carter!” He gave himself a knock on the head and continued on.

That did bring up the question, though. Continue...  _where_? The trees continued their odd, minute dance in the corner of his sight. However, the grassy paths kept shifting.

Carter had to stop and close his eyes. He was getting dizzy. The ground was spinning beneath him; he felt sick.

“What the hell is goin' on here?”

He opened them up and saw the true treasure of the glades. On the one side there was a vast tower that seemed to grow up into the skies from the ground itself. It was covered in moss and reached out with thick, aged branches. But, on the right, was what had to be Carter's true location.

Rows upon rows of chambers, their entryways obscured by willow curtains shifting side to side in the breeze. They were closer to him than the barn and pens in the distance, and Carter could hear bleats coming from the largest structure.

He stole away into the first chamber. In it he found all the means of a dressing chamber. Done up to a fairy-flouncing fifty, of course.

He stepped inside and approached a chest, filled to bursting with silks and furs. “Jesus...” Carter picked up a cloak made from the scarlet fur of a red panda. “Hope they weren't too aggressive.”

> _“I need naught but a moment.”_

Carter tossed the cloak back in and, faster than he could really digest the situation, he dove underneath the chaise-lounge.

> _“Fahdrua-_ _ahn_ _!”_  

Trillium spat out, charging in and parting the curtains of willow leaves and looking around.

Carter slapped both hands over his mouth. He pleaded his throat to keep his lungs still, to not choke for air as he waited for the powerful creature to part.

He watched as Trillium the Fair's feet, bare, toes painted the hues of the forest, padded over the grass and leaves of the chamber floor.

> _“Where did I last leave it?”_  

Trillium the Fair asked himself. He padded over the moss and grass, opening wooden cabinets and wardrobes.

> _“Where... Ah!”_  

His quarry was hidden away in his vanity drawer. The rippling silver of the vanity mirror reflected the light of the golden hairbrush that now rested in his hands. 

> _“Only the finest.”_  

Trillium the Fair chuckled. He turned towards the curtains.

He waited a moment. A smile flicked upon his lips for a brief second.

And then he left.

Carter waited for the mild footsteps of the ancient creature to fade into the distance. He exhaled the stale air in his chest and took several gulps.

Now or never.

Carter shot out of the willow curtains on the other side of the chamber. The Fae-Ewe were in the ivy-laden pens he had seen on his way in. He could hear soft, unearthly tones formed into unknown words from inside the moss-drenched barn.

Carter jogged over to the pen and climbed over the gates. He was just steps away from doing what he came to do. Carter turned around, head lowering to see the fluffy faces of the Fae-Ewe.

“What in the cotton-pickin'  _hell?!_ ” He managed to keep it to a whisper but his eyes bugged out of his head. When he had heard the word 'ewe' he was thinking of a creature that was mostly fluff that could come up to his hip at the highest. Docile as they were, these things were the size of horses! With sharp horns that curved upwards like winter holly.

“Shit.” He was starting to shake as he looked around. No. No, this wasn't going to work! He had come all this way but there was no way in  _hell_  that he could hope to get out of here with one of these things without having all eyes on him.

“Mee~eeh~!”

Carter looked down at his hip to see a young lamb nibbling at his overalls. Though this one couldn't be but a few months old, she was still an inch or so higher in height than his waist.

“H-hey there little lady...” He looked around to make sure he was still in the clear. He patted the sweet-smelling lamb on her side. More than enough meat to feed two people for a good month or so. “You wanna go for a walk? Huh? Would ya like that?”

“Meh~!” The lamb bleated in joy, her floppy ears falling into her fluffy face.

Carter nodded. “Okay.” He looked back to the barn. “Okay.” Carter held a gentle hand as he led the lamb to the gate. “Here we go – damn, you got a lot of meat on your bones!” He hefted the lamb up as much as he was able and let momentum carry her the rest of the way.

“Easy enough.” Carter nodded to himself. He hopped over the gate and aided the lamb to her hooves before leading her away from the pen.


	24. Why Don't Ewe Tell Me?

* * *

 

 

After fifteen minutes of walking, with the pen and Carter looked down at the lamb. She jumped and flounced a bit at his side.

“You're a happy little thing, ain't ya?” Carter took his backpack off and grabbed a simple knife from it. Simple in size but suitable enough in shape for a job like this. He just needed the meat. He just had to get the meat and all of this would be over. “Now, you stay still.”

“Meh~?” The lamb looked up at Carter. The shiny thing in the human's hands was so strange. Was it food? A different kind of brush?

“Good girl. Good girl...” Carter eased the lamb's head upwards. He had a good view of her neck. It would be a clean cut. The blood would just sink into the grass. That's how it worked, right?

Carter surged the knife down.

“FUCK!” He howled. The knife fell to the ground, away from a frozen, trembling hand. “What's...” Carter gasped for air, his chest constricting.

He took a few steps. He didn't make it to the second, plummeting to the feather-soft grass below. What the hell was going on? His eyes were blown. Pain rolled over his sense of touch, hearing, and even taste.

The lamb padded away. She nibbled at some of the grass and wondered if she had missed lunch. But at the scent of nature's bouquet of blossoms, she ran and jumped up to see the new form in the glade.

> “ _I can honestly never understand what it is with you humans.”_  

Trillium the Fair hefted the lamb into his arms without any sign of effort. 

> _“With everything in the world at your hands, given to you, you lot always go after that not meant for you.”_

The soles of his painted feet kissed upon the grass. He kept a gentle pace around the seething, sobbing form on the ground. 

> _“Fahdrua-_ _ahn_ _...”_  

He toyed with the lamb's curls, cooing, 

> _“So pitiful...”_

“Fuck!” Carter pushed himself onto his back. His muscles, his skin, even the marrow in his bones all were being pulled asunder by a thousand vicious claws. “God damn it! Okay!” He croaked out through gritted teeth. “'m sorry! I'll leave your sheep alone, just let me go!!”

Trillium the Fair frowned. He let the lamb jump to the floor and watched her run as fast as her little hooves could carry her.

Trillium the Fair merely flexed his fingers and his mighty staff came floating to him. The floating stones on the top of it, shaped as moonlight and sunlight, in moonlight and sunlight, spun round each other.

> _“Not only do they keep stealing from me...”_  

He whispered to himself, the only warmth in his eyes coming from the light of his staff. 

> _“Yet they try to bargain when they get caught.”_

Trillium sensed something amiss on the grass. He looked down and saw the human's backpack, as well as the discarded knife he was about to commit the heinous crime with.

Trillium poked the bag open with the bottom of his staff. The only thing inside of it happened to be a slip of paper.

> _“Hm?”_  

Trillium the Fair, after a moment or two of hesitation, tipped his staff in the paper's direction. It flapped like a bird into the air, suspending itself up in front of Trillium's eyes.

A picture.

Of the human writhing in pain in his glade and another human who was well along the way of expecting. Though her attitude... Trillium smiled. 

> _“My... what an ugly girl.”_

“Sh-shut up...” Carter's body was thrumming in molten pain. But he couldn't let that slide. “M-m-other... of my... ba--”

> _“Oh, no she isn't. Stop deluding yourself.”_  

Trillium the Fair sent the photo away from his sight. It tore itself into a dozen pieces and fell to the grass. 

> _“All I see is a foolish child on some asinine sin against my nature.”_  

He chuckled, 

> _“But even I can see that you were working in vain for an ugly heart. Pitiful child.”_  

He poked the miserable human in the forehead with his staff.

Though the agony lanced through his nerves with every breath he took, Carter managed to shake his head. Tears had rolled up from his unrelenting pain. The elf's words just made them fat with his grief.

“Just do whatever you want.” Carter let his head fall back. “Ya hear me?! Do whatever ya God damn want!”

_'Just let me forget my mistakes.'_

Trillium the Fair tilted his head at the writhing human. He turned around and leaned against his staff. 

> _“I'm not going to do anything.”_

He closed his eyes. A neutral smile grew on his lips at the sound of cracking bone and tormented, gurgling howls. 

> _“It's already being done.”_

***

Carter was being carried.

His eyelids were too heavy to pick up but the pain... the pain was finally gone.

Blind as he seemingly was, he could hear just fine. The buttery melodies of bleats were an ocean around him.

> _“A-Taisce, a-_ _taisce_ _...”_

That voice. The elf! Trillium the Fair! Was he the one carrying him? He had picked up that lamb like it was nothing. But why would he be holding him? Carter forced his eyes to follow his will, only managing a sliver of exposure. He could see the other Fae-Ewe, the ones he couldn't possibly hope to carry out of Dama Fristad.

They were all eating, looking at Trillium, or trying to get a better look at him.

_'He's gonna feed me to 'em, isn't he?'_  Carter twisted this way and that in a weak stroke at finding freedom.

> _“Oh, they're awake.”_  

Trillium the Fair turned Carter back around. The smile that Carter saw on the elf's face made his blood run cold for some reason. 

> _“You had me worried with your long nap. Ah, well.”_

_'Long nap?'_

Trillium the Fair turned to the rest of his rowdy flock. 

> _“Come now, stop with this_ _bachram_ _.”_  

He snapped his fingers, all the Fae-Ewe ceasing their motions and looking towards him. 

> _“Better. Now, I have something for all of you. A grand gift. No need to thank me, though I won't reject it if you did.”_

_'What in the jumpin' hell is he goin' on about?'_  Carter opened his mouth, just for Trillium the set him down upon the grass.

He didn't waste a second; Carter jumped up on his feet.

_'To hell with Sarah-Lynn! I'm goin' Vegan after all thi – Oh shit!'_

Carter's face was quickly introduced to the ground.  _'Ow..! What the hell?'_

Carter tried to pick himself up again and only managed to repeat his actions.  _'Come on!'_

_'What's are they doing, mama?'_

_'Shh, little one. They have obviously been ill for a night or so.'_

Carter whipped his head up. Where had those voices come from?

Trillium the Fair tut-tutted with a slow shake of his head. 

> _“You are going to hurt yourself, little one.”_

_'Who the hell is he callin' little?!'_  Carter turned around to snap at the elf. He stopped, his tracks frozen as he looked up. Why... why was this guy so much taller than him now?  _'Hey! What are you up to? Some kind of freaky size-changin' magic?!'_

Trillium hummed, tilting his head. 

> _“What's that, wee one? I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand you.”_

Trillium the Fair stopped. He thought over his words. He chuckled again.

_'The fuck are you talkin' about?!'_  Carter fumed and jumped up and down.  _'Ya got what ya wanted, now let me go!'_

> _“Ah, where is my head. I haven't given you a name.”_  

Trillium the Fair continued, 

> _“What would sound nice? Orange-blossom?”_

_'I'm right here!'_  Another one of those voices rang out, a Fae-Ewe with creamy orange wool stepping forward.

> _“Of course, silly me.”_  

Trillium the Fair smiled, 

> _“How about... Persimmon?”_

_'I HAVE A NAME!'_  Carter shouted again. He charged towards the powerful creature, not deterred when he fell on his face and knocked over a pail of water.  _'Shit! Why can't he hear me?! Wh –'_

Carter shook his head, trying to remove some of the water that had splashed on him. He lowered his gaze to the surface of the puddle he made.

There was a sheep there. A lamb. She had silky, curly wool the color of cream, dotted with orange spots. Was Carter underwater? Maybe the fall had sent him into a lake. There could be a lamb looking down at him.

That's what he told his quickening heart. He needed to get out of there before he drowned. Carter reached out towards the surface with a bright orange hoof –

This wasn't happening.

This was a dream. He hadn't gone into Dama Fristad, he had just passed out near the gates!

> _“I've got it.”_  

Trillium the Fair clapped his hands together. 

> _“Carrot. That's what I'll call you. How do you fancy that, my new little lamb?”_

_'NO!'_  Carter screamed, the sound coming out as a panicked bleat. He bolted away from the puddle, only to be stopped by one of the larger Fae-Ewe, the one with the rouge coat who smelt of cranberries and soft cream.

_'Calm yourself down, Carrot.'_  She bleated down at him... At  _her._

_'No! No, no, no!'_  Carter, or rather, Carrot shook her head: wool whipping about her floppy ears.  _'This ain't right! I'm not supposed to be here! I can't –'_  Carrot stopped. Her chest heaved up and down under her downy wool curls.

When had hi –

When had her voice started sounding so soft? Like wind-chimes on a farm being tossed about by warm summer winds?

Carrot fell to the ground, burying her face into the grass: dirt turning to mud from her tears.  _'This ain't right..! Change me back! Change me back, please..!'_

Trillium the Fair stepped out of the pen. A wave of his staff saw the heavy lock of the pen swinging down and locking itself.

> _“A-Taisce...”_  

He waved back at the flock, 

> _“Please make your new daughter and sister feel right at home.”_

 

 

_Borne from a flower bloomed by the gods_

_Clever no matter the storme'st of odds_

_He is our treasure, with diamondine flair,_

_Our treasure, his glory: Trillium the Fair!_

 

_See, as he rides from o'er the hill!_

_Fae-Ewen mount and crystalline bells!_

_Feast your eyes on his Sun-Kissed Hair_

_Our guardian, Trillium the Fair!_

 


	25. Fill Her Shoes

* * *

 

 

Wings of glass spun from absinthe forced Fane through the fog-thick air above the valleys of lonely graves and tombs. Behind him, barks that rolled up from the underworld: echoing through the darkened skies above Necronia's lonely grave community.

It would be a crime to call it a graveyard, for it reached out in several directions: vast like a wealthy suburb nestled in hidden mountains.

Fane hated this. He hated flying and he hated these God-forsaken acres of death and decay. But he was running out. He needed to replenish his supplies before his next shipment had to go out.

Splintering glass.

Fane's one eye went wide. Shit.  _Shit!_  He wasn't supposed to fly for too long at a time, his body wasn't used to it yet!

Fane dipped behind the load-bearing beam of a massive ceramic mausoleum.

He forced himself to stay still. The panting beasts chasing him, with their noxious oozing drool and their ghastly white eyes would pass him by without a second thought. As long as Fane didn't make any

Sudden

Moves.

The thunder of footsteps approached.

The thunder of footsteps faded away.

“Fucking finally.” Fane stepped out from the shadows of the mausoleum. He glanced back at the pair of wings on his back. They were still too small. Too fragile.

One hour and then a time. That was all Fane could manage before...

The phantom spread his wings. He flinched as the spider's web cracks began to grow.

“Damn it!” He punched the pillar. His wings retracted into his back and under his hoodie. Fane got to walking. He wanted to get what he needed and get out before his mother knew he was out wandering.

Fane adjusted the backpack he had and quickened his pace to a jog.

However, the growling that surged up behind him prompted him into a run. “Shit! Shit!” Fane's feet kicked up moss, dirt, and dust. Hot puffs of air were on his heels, fangs coated in slime snapping just out of reach. A fourth bark cracked out from his right. A heaving form of fur and black and mist tackled into Fane. He was sent into the miserable ground, pressed into the decaying grass from above; foul green slobber all over his cheeks and joined by more when the other hounds came over.

“Fucking damn it!” Fane seethed out. He pressed his hands against them, a paint-peeling frown on his now-sticky divided face. “Get off of me, you stupid mutts!”

The Baskerville Hounds, all dopey smiles and panting maws, kept licking and sniffing at their young ward. Happy barks and yearning whines left them at random intervals when they finally let themselves be pushed back.

Fane dusted his butt off and looked at the front of his hoodie. Slime and slobber rolled down the drenched fabric. “Damn it..!”

Fane glared at the Baskerville Hounds. Each of the massive beasts, of course, wagging their tails or jumping about; ready for play. “Go home!” Fane yelled, jabbing a finger westward. “Go on, you stupid fucks! Go!”

The Baskerville Hounds jumped on top of Fane again. They buried him in cold noses and slime and slobber: Fane barely able to shout out his frustration.

“E...” He coughed, pushing away again. “Enough!” This time the Hounds got the hint. To a degree. They all hopped and wagged their tails some more. Were they going to play? Did the young master have snacks for them?

Fane rolled his eyes. He reached his necrotic arm underneath his hoodie. There was a click.

A crack.

The phantom slowly pulled out his skeletal arm. The Hounds exploded into barks and whines. “Shut up..!” Fane hissed. He whipped his arm back and sent his bony arm flying into the darkness and mist.

Quick as your local coke addict running after daddy, the Hounds bounded after the arm: baying and barking all the while.

Fane stayed still. He just needed them to slag off for at least two miles. Just so they wouldn't be focused on him.

Three... Two... One...

He held his remaining hand up in the air. His arm cut through the air like a boomerang until he caught it. “Thank God for dumb-ass mutts.” That little trip would keep them occupied just long enough for Fane to get what he needed and get the hell out.

***

Both arms back where they belonged, Fane dragged himself through the misty acres and the long crops of tombstones and monuments.

He was far enough that no one who admired life would dare to hunt him out.

Fane tossed his backpack onto the ground, cracking open the zipper. He tore out a shovel, simple ebony wood, simple iron head, and looked around.

An abusive mother, maybe.

A serial killer, definitely.

_Ooh_ , wait.

Fane walked along a row of stones and statues. His shadow followed him, blanketing along like a loyal after-image should.

Passing the fourth tombstone, the shadow stopped as Fane went on.

The gossamer layer of ink faked left. Then right. It looked around, an impressive feat without eyes.

Better to fix that sooner than later.

One whirling pool of white smoke appeared. Its twin appeared soon after. Finally, crackling like a dying flame, a crescent moon of a grin split the shadow's face; their form condensing down to the size of a child. With remnants of shadows spiraling up from their frame, the shadowy form floated along the ground and the stones until they bobbed up and down behind Fane.

 

> **“** _ **Hey**_ ** _kid...”_**  

The shadows watched Fane dig into the frigid, hard earth.

 

> **_“Working it hard or is it hardly working for ya?”_ **

“Go away, Akeldama...” Fane didn't even give Necronia's Guardian an acknowledging nod.

Akeldama pouted but floated right next to Fane's face. He smushed his smokey cheek up against Fane's frowny face. 

 

> **_“So...”_  **

Akeldama asked, 

 

> **_“Huntin' for some good head? You and every other young thing in this town.”_ **

Akeldama tapped at his temple. 

 

> **_“Some of the old ones, too. Now that I'm thinkin' on it.”_ **

“Oh my God, please fuck off..!”

Akeldama dipped away, avoiding Fane's waving hands. 

 

> **_“Hey now..!”_**  

Akeldama folded their hands.  ** _“_**

 

> **_It's not always about you, ya know! Maybe I'm lonely and bored! Come on..!”_ **

A decaying coffin was exposed to the night air. The shovel dug into what was left of the rotting wood and Fane rooted around inside. Where was it... It couldn't have broken down already.

Fane pulled his hands back and admired the treasure in his hands.

Human skulls weren't much to jot down as 'special', but when someone lived such a vile life, only causing suffering and reveling in it...

That was what could produce a skull, stained with dark energy and reeking with the rotten, bittersweet scent of wasted fruit.

 

> **“ _Whoa...”_**

Fane looked around, choking when Akeldama fazed through his chest and grabbed the skull. 

 

> **_“What a beaut! Fane, you shouldn't have..!”_ **

“What?! No!” Fane shoved Akeldama out and snatched the skull away. “I didn't come out here for  _you!_  Go away!”

 

> **“ _But Fane~!!”_**  

Akeldama pouted. A wash of shadow sloughed down from their back. It lashed at the air and snapped against itself.

The ground quaked. Two gigantic bookcases burst from the ground. Dirt and pebbles rained all over the grave community. But Akeldama merely floated over to the bookcases. The falling debris merely went through them. 

 

> **_“Look at 'em all!”_**  

Akeldama grinned up at his precious bounty.

Skulls. Thousands of skulls that had been lacquered, polished, and either encrusted with gems or painted and baked.  _“My babies..!”_

Fane looked up at the two massive bookcases. Damn it, if he had even a third of Akeldama's collection, he could happily avoid this side of Dama Fristad for years.

But then, and this made him grit his teeth with the audible sound of mineral scratching against mineral, all that glitter and gunk on them made them useless.

And that didn't even include what was going to happen next...

 

> **“** _**Lookit** _ **_this one!”_ **

Akeldama grabbed a skull that had a fancy silk collar wrapped around its base; the bone lacquered a rich blue. 

 

> **_“So much for being 'an Immortal Bard', huh?”_**  

Akeldama grabbed another, this one engraved with the drooping, scarlet petals of Argentina's national bloom. 

 

> **_“Evita really deserved better than this guy. But, hell, what can ya do? Look! I even got Hitler a few months back!”_ **

Both Fane and Akeldama glanced at the last shelf of one of the bookcases. There, shoved into a corner and only half refurbished, were the crumbling remains of a skull. A few flies buzzed around it.

 

> **“ _Just between you and me,”_  **

Akeldama whispered into Fane's ear, 

 

> **_“I think that one's a_ little _retarded.”_**

Fane tossed his bangs. “Whatever. You're not getting this one.”

He shoved the malevolent skull into his bag and did a haphazard job of pushing the dirt and wood back into the grave.

Fane moved onto a new burial site. Akeldama had started complaining again. 

 

> **_“Kids these days are so rude! D'ya know I still pay your mother's paychecks,_ ** _**ri** _ **_\--”_ **

Akeldama blinked, their words cutting out.

They floated behind Fane, peeking over Fane's shoulder, asking, 

 

> **_“How have your parents been doin'?”_ **

Fane rooted around in the next coffin. The earth hadn't set too harshly with this grave. “I don't fucking know.”

Akeldama's smokey grin shriveled into a flat, low line.

 

> **“ _Ya know... Running away from your responsibilities... Usually has the consequence of makin' things worse.”_**

The closest tombstone exploded into a cloud of dust and crumbles of concrete. The shovel was no more: its pieces mixed into the chaos.

Fane glared at the tombstone turned dust. His chest rose and fell, lone eye blazing and wings outstretched behind him.

Akeldama stayed their course. It was a foolhardy endeavor to try and frighten Death, let alone it's Shadow.

Fane withdrew his wings. His eye returned to its normal glow. “Whatever.” He scoffed and lifted his bag from the ground. Two skulls would have to do.

 

> **“ _Are you heading home already?”_**  

Akeldama watched Fane walk back towards the desolate path. 

 

> **_“Ya_ ** _**sure** _ **_you don't need to do anything else while you're here?”_ **

“I'd rather piss acid than stay with you five more minutes.” Fane called back once he was half the path away. He just wanted to get home and get to work. He didn't trust his luck beyond the frayed edges that were still allowing him to be in the grave community without hearing the flapping of raven's feathers or the resounding echo of funeral bells.

He stopped.

Looking ahead of himself, he couldn't believe how stupid he was to have tried a stunt like this.

She trailed fog wherever she went: providing the weight that her skeletal frame severely lacked. Bones as white as ash gripped tightly onto the scythe in her fingers. Her cloak danced around her link the embodiment of grief: all-encompassing, ever-shifting.

She looked down the path and noticed an unneeded presence in her way.

“ _Oh.”_  The Grim Reaper set her scythe into the ground.  _“It's you.”_

Fane opened his mouth. “I--”

A slow hand lifted into the air.

Fane shut his mouth instantly. His eye shot down to the ground.

The Grim Reaper lifted her free hand. Descending down from her bony wrist was a shifting length of iron chain-links. Some flaked rust, others chimed the song of funerary bells.

“ _Just tonight,”_  The Grim Reaper spoke,  _“I have ushered ten and twenty souls away to the shore of passing.”_  She clenched her hand into a fist. The empty darkness within her eye-sockets bore into Fane. His chest ran cold, even if he couldn't meet her gaze.

The Grim Reaper seized the chain-links. Fane winced, despite himself. He knew the weight of those chains and how fast the Grim Reaper could move them all too well.

“ _How is it that I can snuff life out as easy as the breeze but my heir resigns himself to constant failure?”_  She gave her heir a once-over.  _“What do you call yourself wearing? Get rid of that filth immediately.”_

Fane couldn't argue. In a rolling, green flare, his hoodie was wiped away: a hooded cloak of gray remaining.

The Grim Reaper's voice betrayed her persistent disapproval.  _“How can the sight of one creature fill me with so much disappointment?”_

Fane kept his view low to the ground. He yearned to just bury himself in the lifeless earth.

The Grim Reaper turned around.  _“Had I known the mistake that would incessantly look back at me with your existence... I would never have gone through the effort of crafting you.”_

Fane's mouth popped open, “Y—”

The Grim Reaper lifted her hand once more. Fane shut himself up.

“ _I shall check your progress on my own.”_  She held her hand upward and flat into the air.

“CRAAAAWWW!”

Fane's jaw clenched tight when beating wings clapped right into his ears. The winged beast carved through the laden skies. With its wings reaching wider than a man could lay out, it rested one of its talons on top of the offered hand. Two sets of eyes rolled around its sockets, milky white in blindness yet constantly seeing.

The eyes stopped.

“EIGHT!” It croaked out, spittle leaving its beak, “A MERE EIGHT, M'LADY!!”

“ _That is enough.”_  The Grim Reaper tossed the Miser Crow into the air above. It flopped in the air, desperate to right its panicked form until it evened itself out.

She looked back down at Fane. So cold...

“ _Why are you **here**?”_

 

> **“** _**Hey** _ **_Fane..!”_ **

Akeldama peeked out from behind one of the tombstones. 

 

> **_“Didja find it ye – Oh!”_ **

Akeldama skipped along the shadows, pooling themselves onto the ground between harbinger and heir.  _“Hey there, Reaper. You here escorting souls?”_

“ _...”_  The Grim Reaper didn't respond save for a glare at first.  _“..Yes.”_

 

> **“ _Nice, nice...”_**  

Akeldama gave themselves some form, 

 

> **_“I just asked Fane to come out here to help me find some GrimShrooms. I promised Trillium I would get him some and then we got swamped down at the hall with that truckful of nuns and prisoners. So much denial and frantic praying – my head was killing me--”_ **

“ _I will be taking my leave.”_ The Grim Reaper turned on her heeled sandal. But she still had one last word for her heir.  _“Do well not to disappoint myself or your father again.”_

She walked away until her visage melted into the fog.

Fane didn't lift his head until he felt the suffocating aura in the air fade away. “Why did you do that?” He asked, his cloak burning back into his hoodie.

 

> **“ _Geez Louise,_** _**kid** _ **_, can't you ever just say 'thank you'?”_ **

Fane didn't respond after that. He just wanted to get home. Akeldama simply shook their head.

 

> **“ _Whatever. You go on then, I'm gonna go get some sleep before shoving my face against the grindstone of a thousand cries for mercy.”_**

Fane spread his wings; a gust of air flying past Akeldama, the sound of swaying glass chandeliers ringing off of the tombstones.

 

> **“ _Hm?”_**

Akeldama fluttered close. The crack in one of the phantom's wings was clear as day. 

 

> **_“Really?”_**  

Akeldama sighed before exhaling a spindly web of white shadows. Building up until they had enough weight behind them, that was when they slunk forward and embedded into Fane's cracked wing.

“The fuck are you doing?” Fane's words were bitter but their weight was nonexistent. He was tired. He just wanted to get as far away from his mother as possible.

A poof of fog.

The crack, Fane noted with surprise, was gone. “W-wait, why--”

 

> **“ _Go home, kid.”_**  

Akeldama coiled into a tight ball of darkness, vanishing from sight.

Fane was left facing his shadow's warped surface upon the woeful ground.

***

As soon as he got back to the condo, wings aching and complaining, Fane made short work of connecting his phone to a set of black speakers. They were decorated with shocks of bone and carved ebony. He sank down to the matching table in his room. The only light in the dismal chamber came from one of two large candles, each dancing with an emerald flame, and his one ominous eye.

He brought everything that he needed to its right place. The bloated, twisting beakers, the large mortar and pestle, several dishes of varying sizes, and a small bowl made for hosting flames of usable sizes.

Fane turned in his chair. The phantom's foot tapped the beat of the music while he pulled a thin cloth mask over the bottom of his face.

Okay.

He was finally ready.

First ingredient. He had done this a thousand times and he would do it a thousand more. He could mix in his sleep without any distractions.

Though his mind was heavy with distractions at the moment.

Fane mixed in a cloud of this, a splash of that. 80 Grams here, 24 Grams there. Roll to a soft boil. Fane watched the mixture in the beaker fold from black to ribbons of blue. Alright. He just needed a sprinkle of that last ingredient. He opened his backpack and retrieved one of the skulls that he had gotten earlier that night.

He placed it into a pot, triggering a slice of that malevolent energy. “Shit!” Fane grabbed the beaker with his skeletal hand, not having time to grab gloves. He poured the first substance over the skull and shielded his eye from the sparks of violet flame. He kept pouring until the beaker was empty, watching as the skull broke into splintered portions; eventually dissolving into the ooze.

A pair of tongs stirred into the slime. The bone fragments soon melted away from sight, the entirety of the mixture bubbling bright and green. Just like his eye.

It was while he was getting empty vials ready for this batch of concoction that Fane felt vibrating at his hip. It couldn't have been from his main phone, that had his all-time favorite song from  _Black Echoes Memories_  as the ringtone.

Fane struggled to pull out the simple phone from his back pocket. “What the hell is it now?”

“Boss!” A frantic croak from the other end, “I know you never want us calling you, b-b-b-but I was just wondering... if it's not too much trouble... I-if you could  _maybe_... If you have the time--”

“Spit it out or I slit your throat through this phone.” Fane grit out, his eyes watching his hands as they poured the steaming concoction into the waiting vials.

“AH! I'M SORRY!” The voice panicked, “WE'RE RUNNING LOW ON SUPPLY AND WE JUST NEED TO KNOW WHEN YOU'LL BE COMING BY TO GIVE US MORE TO SELL SO WE DON'T LOSE YOUR CUSTOMERS!!”

Fane set the empty pot back onto the table. He grabbed one of the vials, rolling it between his decaying fingers. His lone eye shined over the glass, but the fluid inside sparked every time Fane said a word. “I'll make the delivery tomorrow. On the Subways. Don't be fucking late.”

“OF COURSE! OF COURSE! Thank you so much, Bo--”

Fane hung up. He didn't need all that screeching in his ear while he was trying to pack this stuff up.

It took a while for users to get to the point of OD-ing, and not in nearly as many numbers as his mother's reaping took in.

But this is what worked for  _him_.

Sometimes, like then as he fell into his chair, Fane really wondered if he was the right choice as the Grim Reaper's heir. She was constantly disappointed in him, no matter what he did, and his father wasn't any help either.

“Damn it.” Fane scrubbed his hand down the skinless half of his face.


	26. Vatertag - Part 1

* * *

 

 

Nephubos trained all three of their eyes onto the calendar wrapped by their tentacles.  _'We do not...'_  They tilted their head.  _'Recognize this holiday.'_

The tentacle-bleb, who had been sitting at the table and attempting to master the mystery of oatmeal, lifted their head when Gahiji bounced into frame.  _'Gahiji? Could we please get a moment?'_

Gahiji stopped mid-bounce, his body suspended in the air. “Sure!” He beamed, body floating over to Nephubos's side. “What's up?”

Nephubos watched Gahiji's paws finally meet the floor.  _'We were examining the calen-daaar,'_  Nephubos began, tapping a tentacle against the day's date,  _'But the holiday here is not being familiar to us.'_

Gahiji looked over the selection and he beamed. “Oh hey! It's Father's Day!”

The sphinx bounced over to the balcony, nearly bowling Suraj over in his haste. He jumped out and propped up on his hind-legs. “Happy Father's Day, He Who Reigns Over the Light~!”

Ra turned the sun around to get a good look at Gahiji's shining face. “At least someone appreciates me as a father-figure.”

Walking down the street came Sekhmet. The war-goddess bearing a bouquet of flowers and a cake in her arms. Hearing Ra's words had her looking down at her gifts. She let them drop to the ground. “Well,  _fuck_  me; am I right?”

***

One of the Traveling Turtles of Aquacia bobbed in her place on the water.

“Last call for tickets!” The dock-guard called out. “Turtle-36 to CenterPointe, last call --”

They stopped when a small hand waved some money for them to see. The Dock-Guard folded their arms and looked across three young faces. “Aren't you three a little on the young side to be going on Traveling Turtle alone?”

One of the small bodies surged up in a cloud of purple, shimmering fire.

“Sorry, sorry.” A new voice tried to soothe the flames down. “We're just trying to find our vater – I mean – father.” When the flames went down and soft content growling began, the voice added, “Please? I have enough money for tickets. We just can't walk all that way.”

The Dock-Guard sighed, “Fine. Just get on the turtle and – no, keep your money.” They watched the three small bodies climb on and find seats. “Put your seatbelts on!” They called to the three small bodies and then addressed the other passengers, “That goes for all of you!”

The giant turtle shook her head to remove the crabs camping out on top of her nose. With a nod to the Dock-Guard, she began the slow and steady glide through Aquacia's crystal waters.

Gloved hands, white with flower-shaped buttons on the wrists, dug into a skirt pocket for a handkerchief. “Calm down...” The first voice whispered. “We've made it. We just has to find Vati and everything will be okay.”

“And according to my research,” A second voice, a bit nasally and scratchy, “Which is, heh,  _never_ wrong, as long as we have his address, we'll find him no problem.”

A happy growl was their response.

***

An eye was looking through the lense created by an interlocking set of fingers. “Mm-hm,” The DFPD receptionist nodded to themselves, “Just what I thought. Definite Dad-Bod.”

“Did you need something?” Abelard turned around from the notes he had been reading and walking with.

“No, no.” The receptionist quickly looked away. Abelard shrugged and continued to the debriefing room. The receptionist turned back to their work on the computer. They needed to get everyone's traffic-duty and security routes all set up before the end of the day.

However, they had failed to notice the extra party near their desk. “You are about as subtle as a brick to the dick.” Said the vampire officer.

“I will put you on Refinery Secruity.” The receptionist didn't even look away. “Don't even try me; you'll never be able to get the smell out of your uniform.”

Abelard set the notes down on the main table in the debriefing room. “I cross-referenced the residue from the gem warehouse explosion in Ignis Fanis.”

“What did you find?” Guang asked, plucking a stray, cooling feather from one of his fiery wings.

Abelard began right away. “The residue held signatures of Fire-Ivy Extract, along with Draconic scale fragments.”

Izumi folded his arms, looking down at pictures: dozens of still shots of the now-dilapidated building belching smoke, flames bursting through windows that Dama Fristad's Firefighting Squadron had tirelessly worked to put out.

Izumi closed his eyes. “Hunters...”

“The bastards are getting far too bold!” Rebekah hissed, the dragon's tail flicking against the ground. “And it's only worse that we can never get anything out of the ones we stop!”

Guang sighed, “Seriously. Even Cruickshank can't get anything out of the one we brought back from the crime-scene. This is all such a pain...”

Abelard picked up the notes and started to leave the room. It was then that Guang leaned over to ask Rebekah, “So... What did you get the Rabbi for Father's Day this year?”

One of Rebekah's eyebrows lifted. “The same thing I get him every year. A new bathing robe, a new set of inking brushes, and I will take him out for dinner at his favorite Chinese restaurant.”

Guang could only shake his fiery head. “Haven't you ever thought of twisting things up a little?”

“I refuse to fix what isn't broken.”

Guang rolled his eyes and then turned to Izumi, the karasu-tengu's eyes still on the photographs of the crime scene. “What about you? Doing anything special for your dad?”

“The day I left home,” Izumi began, not looking up from the table, “My brother and I divided Holiday duties. I got Mother's Day, Christmas, and others. He got Father's Day, Labor Gratitude Day, and the rest.”

And Izumi left it at that.

Guang looked at his fellow Elites and could only let the building sigh in his chest roll out. “Was looking for suggestions on what to get Abelard but, okay...”

***

Through knife-like teeth and dark, abysmal eyes, the scarlet body of [Ahi](https://in.bookmyshow.com/entertainment/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/ahi-compressed.jpg), the great two-headed serpent of Indian myth, regarded the three small bodies asking them questions.

“1685 Blightblossom Lane?” One of the heads asked.

“Yes.” The scratchy voice said, holding up a notepad in lace-gloved hands, “According to my research, which is never wrong,” They stopped to laugh, “That is the place our Vati is.”

The second of Ahi's heads mulled the address over until he said, “Alright, what yer gunna wanna do is take Riverstep Boulevard down to Pompi Street. You'll tackle a hard right and keep goin' until you get to Blightblossom Lane. If ya reach Honeysuckle Place, you've gone too far. Didja catch alla that?”

Three heads nodded upwards.

“Alright, go on. Get.”

When the three small bodies began to depart, Ahi's first head stretched over to their second. “I'm surprised at you.”

“I'm not a complete monster.” Ahi's second head shook itself.

The first head watched the three retreating forms as long as they could see them.

“I like some meat on my meals, ya know?”

“Damn it.”

***

Stale water dripped down from ceilings painted in scenes of the Grim Reaper mounted upon a skeletal horse.

Or the Grim Reaper walking through a decimated European town.

Or the Grim Reaper holding a frail, gaunt man in a ghastly parody of the _Pieta_.

Fane glared up into glowing blue eyes surrounded by shadow.

Erysichthon, Dama Fristad's resident Lich, looked down upon his son.

He lifted up a mighty arm clad in black armor that bespoke an eerie blue mist...

“So...” Erysichthon scratched the back of his helmet. “How are... things?”

Fane scoffed and folded his arms. He was at least given some more angst-ing room since he had been forced into his cloak again.

Erysichthon let his eyes roam about the chamber they were in. “Have you been Tweeting your Tumblbook and all that? Whatever you... young nonhumans do these days?”

Fane rolled his eye, “Damn it, that's not even – Stop...”

“Look, kid.” Erysicthon knelt down, still towering over Fane by five or more feet, “You've gotta throw me a bone. I'm  _trying_  here.”

“Can we just eat or whatever the fuck you wanted to do?” The sooner he could get back to the condo, the better. He fucking  _hated_  Father's Day...

Erysichthon held out a hand towards his only son. But he decided against it, retrieving it. “If that's what you want.”

***

Zach wasn't the fondest of Mother or Father's day. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen his own parents for more than a few years now, but he wasn't the type to try and ruin the enjoyment of others. “Going out for coffee.” He announced to a room full of activity. When no one answered, he shrugged and continued on. “Periwinkle,” Zach said, opening the door, “Do you want a cake p--”

“I'm going to knock on the door. Are you sure this is the right place?”

Zach found himself looking at three young creatures. Two of them had the bodies of young girls, one slightly older than the other... Did European Wendigoes start out as children? Didn't they have to be cursed like their Native American counterparts?

But, beyond all that, the third one had him thinking for a bit. Even when they floated up to his shirt and started sniffing at it. The flames around her skull moved more like powder but still held heat. Yet, the heat wasn't burning at that moment.

Perwinkle popped out of the Blightblossoms on the door. “It's been a while since I've seen a Bubble.” The doorfairy flew up and landed on a leaf. “She's pretty young, too.” The Bubble finally stopped sniffing and let out a happy... not quite bark and not quite hiss.

Zach looked from the youngest to the apparent oldest of these newcomers: who was now glaring up at him. He took a low breath. “Okay. Come in.”

***

Zach set three plates in front of the three young creatures. “If you've come as far as I think you all have, then that should tide you over.”

“Until?” The oldest of the three regarded Zach with eyes that burned blue and green.

Zach poured out three glasses of lemonade. He set them out near each creature, but had to stop and think when it came to the Bubble.

A straw was set into one of the glasses with a 'pop'. “Here you go.” 

The Bubble growled and grunted into her plate and succeeded in sending food everywhere.

The middle creature reached for her food, simple meatloaf sandwiches for the three of them, but the eldest kept her burning eyes on Zach.

Zach quickly fixed his own sandwich and leaned against the kitchen counter: now fresh and clean with lemon. “So... do you feel like telling me your names?” He took a bite, chewed it once.

Twice.

Swallowed.

“I'm Zach.”

The eldest of the three said, “I think we're going to w--”

“I'm Beatrisa!” Said the middle child with the owl skull for a head and bright green eyes hidden behind glasses. She pointed to the messy Bubble sipping at lemonade. “She's Constanz and she's--”

“My name is Heidi.” The eldest of the three huffed. The sound whistled through her draconic skull. “Even if I wanted to keep that a  _secret_. Beatrisa!”

Constanz floated over with powdery flames sparkling ever brighter after the hearty meal. Heidi reached into her pocket for her handkerchief. Constanz was always such a messy eater.

“Hey, easy.”

Heidi shrunk back, watching Zach clean the fiery Bubble's face; in spite of any potential burns. Who was this human? Why was he here?

_Where was their father?_

***

“Ach du liber, but of  _course_...” Abelard tapped a finger against the steering-wheel where he was trapped in evening traffic.

At least it wasn't caused by feuding dragons or a royal promenade. That would have been the last thing Abelard needed on this Father's Day.

Abelard leaned back in his seat. He opened the glove compartment and brought out an aged photograph.

His daughters... Heidi would surely be older now. Beatrisa, ever the inquisitive sort. And little Constanz's adorable smile.

Abelard set the photo back in its place. The decision to leave them had been met with many tears and much disagreement. But Abelard hadn't had a choice. His services weren't required in Koniglicher-Blitz, the land that had once been known as Germany. And he needed to provide for his girls...

Abelard pulled up when traffic allowed. His thoughts traveled back to the scene of the destroyed gem-bank.

How many creatures were now out of employment and in hospitals because of such a strike? At least in Koniglicher-Blitz, in the care of his old friend, his girls would be safe.

They would have no reason to come to the Freedom-Divided States.


	27. Vatertag - Part 2

* * *

 

 

Abelard carried his heavy form up the stairs to 1685. “Why did we ever create traffic?” He whispered to no one in particular. He got close to the door and waited for Periwinkle to pop his head out of the Blightblossoms.

“Abelard?” The doorfairy asked, “Wow, just all sorts of boneheads coming through today.”

The door clicked open, Abelard asking, “I beg your pardon?” He didn't keep to the thoughts, stepping inside...

And stopping.

His briefcase fell to the floor, almost unheard amongst side-conversations and whatever noises coming from Mira's laptop.

“Mein... honigbienen...”

Heidi turned towards the front door. “Vati!” The trio shouted. Or, two of them shouted and one made an undescribable bit of noise. They all jumped over and tackled themselves into him.

Abelard held his daughters as much and a bit more than he was able. His heart had swiftly filled to bursting and the cup was spilling over.

“Wait.”

He fell down to one knee and looked Heidi in the eye. “Why aren't the three of you in Koniglicher-Blitz? Where's Klausine?”

As happy as the three children were, it vanished so quickly. Their voices rushed to quietness: Beatrisa and Constanz looking to Heidi for what they should do next.

Heidi looked to the floor and whispered. “Die Schuld.”

Abelard whispered, shaking his head. “Alas, mein friende...”

Too many had fallen to that woeful force already. Yet it still had Koniglicher-Blitz under its crushing weight. “At least you three are safe. How on earth did you get here?”

Beatrisa giggled and tapped a gloved finger to her notebook. “Just a little bit of research and we got here  _just_  fine. I'm never wrong.”

***

Abelard wasn't ungrateful. That his daughters had crossed an ocean and who knows how many blockades to get to him was nothing short of a miracle. But...

He watched his daughters slowly fall asleep in his bed that evening: Beatrisa and Constanz both snuggled into either side of Heidi. He eventually closed the door and walked to the main room.

He thought; swam deep in the ocean of his mind.

…

They couldn't stay here in the Freedom-Divided States.

“Dama Fristad is probably the safest place for them to be. Especially without an ocean and six different borders between you guys.”

Abelard surged up from the ocean with a splash. Zach leaned on the couch behind him, face not arguing and words not accusing.

“At one point I thought that too.” Abelard sighed, removing his glasses to rub at the front of his skull. “Zach, what am I going to do? I can't send them back to Koniglicher Blitz and I can't keep them here without knowing they'll be safe.”

Zach didn't know what was going on at the police department to make Abelard worry so much. But he did understand not wanting to have the girls there at the condo.

Especially not with Gahiji's hyper state, Fane being an angsty piece of shit, Odysseus being...

Abelard and Zach looked to the couch to see Odysseus chomping on chili fries while swiping through potential hookups on his phone. “Egh, hard fucking no.” He swiped away from Nekomata. “Your pussy can't be good enough to get past that  _face._ ” He swiped away from a zombie girl.

… Well, Odysseus was Odysseus. And Mira was just  _Mira-Mira-Mira_.

Zach downed the rest of his drink and tossed the paper cup in the trash. “Hold on a sec.”

Abelard watched Zach pull out his phone.

“Who are you calling?” Abelard asked.

Zach didn't answer. He leaned against the fridge and waited.

***

Tsukuyomi's moon was showering pale light upon a lake surrounded by freshly cut meadows. There were a dozen structures built up out of ivory Snow-Wood which absorbed the pure light as a shield.

Gentle notes filled the evening air as fingers strummed over a guitar. A voice lifted in the darkness of night to sing,

_'Let moon come down..._

_Let shadows be gone..._

_Sins of the past now..._

_Please let them go on..._

 

_Sins of our FATHERS..._

_Passed not onto sons..._

_Winter's snow flurry..._

_Cover blood's red bloom...'_

 

Something buzzed at his hip. He set down the ivory acoustic guitar with the black ivy engravings and answered.

“Zach! You're calling kind of late, is everything okay..?”

A dragonfly shot across the lake's surface, stopping when meeting a young damselfly.

“Of course we have open spots here. … Oh, of course. I'll be sure to get things ready for you guys tomorrow.”

A frog jumped into the lake, ripples growing outward from its entry.

“Sleep tight, Zach.”

***

The next morning, Abelard drove down the freeway out of CenterPointe. Zach was in the passenger seat, serving as a human GPS.

“You're going to want to get to the border limit of CenterPointe and ShimmerGale.

“Where are we going?” Heidi asked from where she sat in the back seat with her sisters. Constanz was busy floating, panting and looking at the passing cars and signs.

“Constanz, sit down.” Beatrisa tugged her sister down to the seat. Heidi asked again,

“Vati, where are we going?”

“Take a left here.” Zach told Abelard.

Abelard let out a confused growl until he cleared his throat and asked. “Can't we get there quicker with the 18?”

“You can't know if the toll-lock is going to be up today.” Zach explained, “Take a left.”

“Constanz~!” Beatrisa cried out again when Constanz began bouncing around the back seats.

Abelard wasn't convinced. “I should just chance it.”

“Abelard, no.” Zach said in that monotonous voice.

“Can I  _please_  know where we're going?” Heidi called out. Why wasn't anyone freaking out about this? What was  _going on?!_

***

Abelard, against the intuitive bones in his body, followed Zach's directions and, seventeen minutes later, pulled into the parking lot of what had to be the nicest version of a campground full of cabins combined with simple classroom buildings.

Zach helped the girls out of the car. When Abelard locked up, he turned and asked, “Zachary, what is this place?”

“Fae Rock Boarding Academy.”

Abelard turned to see...

Oh boy,  _what_  was he seeing?

The young man was Zach's height, Zach's muscular build, the same age.

Even their hair was similar. This new young man's hair was a bit longer; black with bursts of white, falling into a low-sweeping pony-tail.

Despite how similar they were, the sole differentiating factor was the smile on the newcomer's face standing as a firm contrast to Zach's ever-neutral expression.

“Zach!” The new young man walked over to him with outstretched arms.

“Hey Eirwen.” Zach replied, hugging his friend back and clapping a hand to his back.

Eirwen pulled away to look up at Abelard, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Herr Baumgarten.”

Abelard was slightly taken aback. But not necessarily in a negative way. “Sprechen sie Deutsch?”

“Nur ein bisschen.” Eirwen chuckled, “I'm a penny in for quite a few languages.” It was then that Eirwen decided to address the three little ones.

“Guten morgen.” He smiled at them, noticing how the eldest was shielding her younger sisters with her body. “You must be Heidi, Beatrisa, and Constanz. I'm Eirwen. I just...” He tilted his head, offering a soft smile, “Wanted to welcome you guys to Fae Rock and show you around.”

Constanz broke away from Heidi's small anti-stranger blockade and floated up to Eirwen.

“Hello there.” Eirwen let the Bubble sniff at his chest and clothes.

Constanz sniffed and snuffed. Her flames surged up in a cloud of powder when she got to his shoulder. She growled up at Eirwen.

But, just as soon as she started growling, she stopped in favor of licking Eirwen's cheek with a warm, oily tongue. “Well, I hope that that means I've gotten your approval.”

“Well,” That was Beatrisa speaking up. She adjusted her glasses and opened her notebook, “According to my research, which is never wrong, this place is a private academy.”

“ _A boarding school?!_ ” Heidi turned to her father, her voice alight in anger, “You're locking us up in a  _boarding school?!_ ”

“Mein honigbiene,  _please_...” Abelard knelt down to his youngest daughter, “I'm not 'locking you up' anywhere. This will be the best place for the three of you since I have to work.”

Heidi shook her head and shoved her hands against Abelard's chest. “I don't  _believe_  you!” As her voice grew angrier, Beatrisa and Constanz started to whimper and hide behind both Zach and Eirwen. The blue and green flames building in Heidi's mouth didn't help matters.

“Heidi...” Abelard growled down at his daughter, flames of the same color growing in his maw, “Sich benehmen...”

Heidi's flames surged up but they abruptly cut out. She turned and bolted into the forests surrounding Fae Rock, Eirwen shouting after her, “Heidi, wait!  _Please_  come back!”

Zach gave Beatrisa a soft pat on the head and walked over to Abelard. “You have a short thread with her.”

“I do not.” Abelard snapped but then caught himself. “I just want them to be safe and secure and happy but there she goes: having an attitude like she's my age-mate.”

“Herr Baumgarten?” Eirwen asked, Constanz resting upon his head: though whining all the while for her fleeing sister. “Did you tell them that you were thinking of bringing them here?”

“I...” Abelard spoke up. He stopped. “No.”

Eirwen picked up his guitar, “And did you tell them... Before you left them with their last guardian?”

Abelard sighed, rubbing the temples of his skull. “No... I did not.”

Eirwen sighed, Zach didn't emote at all, and Beatrisa walked over the soft grass to hug her father's knee. “Wir brauchten dich... Aber sie hat dich am meisten vermisst...”

Abelard heaved a heavy sigh and patted Beatrisa's head.

Watching father interact with child, Zach's face didn't change. He did, however, ask Eirwen, “Is this what it's like?”

“Huh?!” Eirwen jumped back a bit from Zach, jostling Constanz, “Is... Is what... Like what?”

“Having parents like this?”

“Heh... Heh heh! W-well,” Eirwen moved back from Zach a bit, not meeting his eyes as he sputtered and tripped over his words, “I mean, I-I-I have good parents! And! I'm! Sure! Your parents were! Great!  _Too!_  Ha! Heh!”

Eirwen concluded his panicked reassurances with a twitching smile that pulled tight at the corners.

Zach merely shrugged and turned away. “Maybe we should go after her?”

When Zach's back was turned, Eirwen slumped: the tension gone for a moment. “Maybe just leave her alone for a while? I'm sure that something will convince her to turn her thoughts on this place. Herr Baumgarten?” He waved over to Abelard, who walked over with Beatrisa still holding onto his leg. “Allow me to show you the rest of Fae Rock?”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Abelard agreed, “Lead the way.”

Eirwen turned to start down the path that led towards the Faculty/Office Cabins. When he did, and when he was sure that Zach couldn't see him, he muttered:

 

“Damn it, Zach... Stop torturing me with the hard questions...”

***

Heidi panted, parting her ways through strangling bushes and low-hanging branches. Tears stung her eye-sockets by the time she reached a small pond: hidden away from common sight.

Tadpoles swished over the water's surface and dragonflies flitted to and fro. Heidi tied her skirt up around her thighs before she sat down upon the damp shore.

It was the only one she had now. She had to keep it wearable as long as possible.

“How can he do this to us again?” She muttered, wiping the tears from her skeletal face. “Leaving Koniglicher-Blitz... Stealing enough money for boat tickets...” She covered her eyes with her gloved hands, crying,  _“What was all of it for?!”_

***

“ _Do you think I'm getting anything out of keeping you here?!” An old gargoyle spat out at Beatrisa, the young creature cowering in a corner: arms up to desperately keep more blows at bay._

“ _I'm sorry! I won't do it again!” Several shards of ceramic rested on the floor near her feet._

“ _DU KLEINE SCHLAMPE!” The gargoyle drew their hand back and struck it across Beatrisa's face: sending her to the floor._

_The front-door of the cast-iron oven trembled as Constanz fought against her prison. Her shimmering fire could be seen through the grates._

_The door swung inward as Heidi walked in: backpack heavy with potatoes and onions. “I'm ba – BEATRISA!” She dropped the backpack to th efloor, the vegetables going everywhere._

_Heidi shoved the gargoyle, Klausine, out of the way and brought her little sister into her arms. “Beatrisa, are you okay?”_

“ _I...” Beatrisa dug her fingers into Heidi's shirt, her voice a whisper, “I broke a plate.”_

“ _Ach, look at this!!”_

_Heidi watched Klausine walk over to the fallen vegetables. “Miserable girl! Did you even try to trade with anyone?!”_

“ _Stop hurting my sisters!” Heidi shouted, those blue and green flames rolling in her mouth._

_Klausine could only scoff. “Or what? You'll call your Vati on me? Like the child you are?” They picked the vegetables up and set them upon an old wooden table. “If you don't like the way I raise you, you are free to take your chances out the with The Guilt.”_

_Beatrisa's eyes went as wide as saucers. Heidi flinched but kept her ground. “The Guilt is a myth.”_

“ _Ha!” Klausine spat out, “'A myth', she says. What would a child know? You weren't there! The only reason I tolerate the three of you is because of your father's barrier against The Guilt. Don't forget that this land is far crueler at night than I could ever be during the day. Now! Get her up and fix dinner! Schnell!”_

***

Heidi set her head upon her knees. Klausine had been like that for the past few years.

Something crawled through the bushes around her.

How could she just sit and watch her sisters be put through that?

The sound of wind-chimes trickled in the air.

How could her father want to dump them somewhere else? After what they had been throu--

Heidi screamed when something tackled her. They rolled over the damp grass until Heidi felt her back against the ground. “Who--?!”

Something was sniffing at her: her blouse, her legs, all over.

A head full of messy auburn hair popped up and barked, “You're new!”

“Get off of me!” Heidi shouted.

***

“This is just an example of one of our classrooms.” Eirwen led Abelard and Zach into one of the cabins. True to words, there was a massive whiteboard in the front of the room, several computers, two smaller mobile whiteboards, and toys and books strewn about. “We always have three or more teachers per class.” Eirwen explained, “To make sure that each student gets the hand on attention that they need to succeed.”

“Is it separated by age or by level?” Abelard asked, though he would have to admit: between the pristine state of the grounds and the other facilities, he was very much feeling this place for all of its positives.

“Either-or, depending on the student.” Eirwen said, keeping an eye on Zach.

Zach who, after spinning the ebony globe on one of the tables, asked Abelard, “What do you think?”

“I think...” Abelard began, watching Beatrisa immediately go to the sizable bookshelf and Constanz begin hopping on the mini bean-bag chair, “I need to run this by Heidi. We should go after her now.”

“Trust me, Herr Baumgarten.” Eirwen did his best attempt at reassurance again, “Heidi is fine. If anything,” He rested a hand under his chin, “I hope the others aren't overwhelming her in trying to be friendly.”

***

“You're totes scaring her!”

“You're totes scaring her!”A pair of sparkling hands dragged the wolf-girl off of Heidi, who immediately unwound her skirt and attempt to run away.

She was stopped by what appeared to be a young deer... reindeer... With cinnamon-red horns. “Hey, calm down! You're going to hurt yourself or slip or something.”

Heidi shook her head, bolting away. She inevitably bumped into something dark and leathery.

“Looks like I caught her!” Heidi pulled her head back and away from black fur, seeing a preteen-sized death-bat with glasses. “Hey!” He smiled, fangs wet with saliva.

“Nein!” Heidi shoved the death-bat away and screwed her eyes shut. She just needed to get away from strange humans, strange kids, and get back to her father to get things settled but good.

Her shoe caught on a branch and she screamed as she was about to meet a cracking finale...

Though she never met the ground. Something held her from the back of her shirt. It stood her right-side up and waited for her to regain her bearings.

Heidi turned around, looking wide-eyed at the creature: swirls of ink and coal dust forming a body hidden under a simple white sheet. The only part of them that was visible was his two spindly thin legs and his simple yet expressive eyes.

He looked at Heidi.

Heidi looked at him.

He bounded away and took his place amongst the group. He turned to the wolf-girl and said, voice quiet and low,

~~“You scared her.”~~

“I didn't mean it!” The wolf-girl pouted, being very much a girl with wolf-ears, a wolf-tail, and fur covering her forearms, her chest up to her stomach, her waist down to her thighs, and her calves down to her clawed feet. She wagged her tail and whined, “She looked so sad sitting there by herself!”

“Well now our pearly-white perfect introductions are ruined!”

“Well now our pearly-white perfect introductions are ruined!”The comment was said in stereo by two young tooth-fairies. Both boys, both identical: bodies shining white with minty green sparkles on their cheeks and hands, their hair formed like perfect swirls of toothpaste and their curved wings gossamer against the light even as they held them afloat.

The deer-reindeer-deer and the death-bat came closer, the latter apologizing, “We weren't trying to scare you.” He adjusted his glasses, “We wanted to welcome you!”

“Well, I'm not staying.” Heidi turned away from all of them, glaring at a patch in the grass between glances back at the creature in the sheet.

“But you have to stay!” The wolf-girl rushed over, tail wagging as she begged, “If you don't, the only girls my age are gonna be Masumi and Klickshe!”

 ~~“You're scaring her again.”~~  The creature in the sheet whispered, the wolf-girl whining: ears dropping with the sound.

Heidi turned back around, snapping at the group, “Aren't you guys mad at your parents for leaving you here?!”

The other kids looked at one another before all replying:

“Not really.”

“I made tons of friends here!”

“The teachers are really nice. Especially Mr. Eirwen!”

“We get to play as much as we want!”

“The food's really yummy!”

“They even let us earn money by doing chores if we want.”

“They even let us earn money by doing chores if we want.”

“And our parents visit all the time!”

That last bit got Heidi's attention.

“All... the time?” She asked, the creature in the sheet nodding.

~~“Anytime they can. Anytime they want.”~~

The forest shook and the large head of a Giant peeked over the trees. “I-is it ok-k-k-kay to come out n-n-now?” The poor large boy asked.

***

Eirwen had to run and check on something in the dining cabin real quick, so he had put Zach and Abelard in the capable hands of one of the other young teachers: a sprite with low red skin and light blue hair.

“And here's...” She stated, handing Abelard a thick manila folder, “The paperwork and tuition guidelines.”

“Right to the matter of money.” Abelard chuckled, opening the folder. His eyes bulged out of his skull, “Nostradamasen Hoden!!” He quickly attempted to save face, coughing, “Is that... for all three of my girls?”

The Sprite offered a soda with a nod. “We cover year-round room, board, food, field-trips, and education. Not to mention our top-rate security. It's actually fairly reasonable compared to, say, some of the private schools in Ignis Fanis.”

Be that as it was, the numbers on the form still made Abelard wince.

“He can pay monthly, right?” Zach asked, the Sprite humming,

“Well...”

“ _Of course!”_  Eirwen said, appearing in the room before anyone could catch him. “In fact...” He walked over to the desk and took the folder.

“Eirwen,” The Sprite asked, “What are you--”

“ _It's fine, Rhubarbara...”_  Eirwen eased her concerns down in a shaky voice. He kept writing: adding here, subtracted there.

“Here.” Eirwen offered the folder back to Abelard. Abelard read the folder again and couldn't believe his luck.

“This is  _incredible_! What did you change?”

Eirwen shook his head, “Anyone coming to Dama Fristad for a safe, new beginning deserves a fair chance. Let's just... look at it as a trial run until you all get really settled into the city.”

Zach looked out the window, wanting to keep an eye on Beatrisa and Constanz while their father talked to the Fae Rock staff.

“Heidi's back.” He said, after a moment. He stood to his feet and walked outside, Eirwen and Abelard quickly following.

The three adults stayed near the cabin and watched all the children laugh and run about.

Beatrisa was trying to sketch the deer-reindeer-deer in her notebook, Constanz was catching marshmallows tossed into the air by a moon-white rabbit with horns, and Heidi had the creature in the sheet on one side while a young Kobold admired her skirt.

“You sewed this yourself?” The Kobold asked, her wide eyes framed by thick eyelashes.

Heidi nodded, “Yeah, but it's nothing special.”

 ~~“Don't talk yourself down.”~~ The creature in the sheet muttered.

Heidi looked at him but ended up seeing Abelard in the corner of her eye.

Constanz did that little bark/little hiss and floated over. Beatrisa quickly followed, Heidi bringing up the rear.

Abelard knelt down to better hug his daughters. “Mein honigbienen... I am so sorry for just leaving you. I thought my barrier would keep you all safe from Die Schuld.”

Beatrisa and Constanz didn't say anything. They looked to Heidi, who said, “It's okay, Vati.”

Abelard shook his head, “Nein, I should have asked you how you felt. Listen to me. Gut zuhoren.” When he felt that their attention was upon him, Abelard continued, “Dama Fristad is a place of peace. But there are still dangers hidden away in the poison of the shadows.” He tugged Beatrisa's headscarf into place. “But Fae Rock will be safe for you. And we will no longer be separated by an ocean and six borders.” He wiped some marshmallow off of Constanz's teeth. “Is this a place that the three of you would like to stay?”

The question was meant for all three of them, but punctuated at Heidi. She thought on it. Thought, hummed, and wondered.

She glanced back at the other students, especially the creature in the sheet.

Heidi turned back and, after a deep breath...

She nodded. “And you'd  _better_  visit us!”

“But of course!” Abelard kissed the foreheads of each of the three, letting them go back to what they were doing.

“You're staying?!” The wolf-girl jumped up with a joyous howl, the twin tooth-fairies cheering,

“That's perfectly pearly!”

“That's perfectly pearly!”

Abelard watched his daughters joyously join the junior jamboree before looking to Zach and Eirwen.

“Thank you.”

“I can't have you stressing while you're at work.” Zach offered, even as a desert road.

Eirwen bowed a bit, smiling, “Having your daughters here will be  _such_  a del--”

“Hold on, young one.”

Eirwen clapped his mouth shut.

Abelard gently moved the two humans so that they were standing next to each other on even ground.

It really was almost exact. There was a bit more of a point to smoothness to Eirwen's eyes and his chin, but other than that and the hair colors, they really were almost exact.

“You two...” Abelard lifted an eyebrow, “ _Are_  brothers, right?”

Zach's face beheld no emotion, but Eirwen started shaking up a storm.  _“What?!”_  He sputtered, eyes wide and twitching, “Us?!  _B-brothers?!_  N-no! Herr Baumgarten, you're so crazy! Z-Zach's one of a kind!  _A league all on his own!!_ ”

Zach popped a hand on top of Eirwen's head, smoothing down his frizzing hair. “We've known each other since we were kids.” Zach explained, deadpan, “Me, him, Faaria, and Rory.”

Abelard looked at the two of them, staying a bit longer on Eirwen's dying tremors.

“If... you two say so.” He looked back at his girls, already planning on what to bring the next time he visited Fae Rock.

 

“If you say so.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Vatertag Event was originally posted on Father's Day of 2018 as one of the 1685 special story events.


	28. A Day in the Life of Rory Fontaine

* * *

 

 

**_BUZZ!_ **

**_BUZZ!_ **

**_BUZZZZ!!_ **

A radio spits out some awful static before it crackles to life.

“ _Herro... Dama Fristad!”_  A voice with an obvious accent exclaimed out from the speakers.  _“It's time for your Morning Report with Fa Jiang --”_

“ _And Tchaikovsky!”_  A deeper voice rumbled through the speaker.  _“We are having plenty of amazing tracks to get you started on your commute.”_

“ _But first!”_  Fa Jiang piped up,  _“Time for some rocal gossip!”_

A pair of purple oven mitts slid over a waiting pair of hands. The large oven with the black front plating and the crown of cast-iron burners yawned when its door was opened.

“Easy, now...” A long sheet pan was gently tugged out. Resting upon it, chocolate chips and toffee still bubbling hot, were rows upon rows of freshly baked cookies.

Rory Fontaine, dark hair tied pinned up and out of his face, smiled down at the tray of sweets. “Perfect.”

“ _Oh?”_  The two DJs on the radio kept up their conversation, Tchaikovsky adding,  _“Please to be telling.”_

“ _Word on the stleet,”_  The squeaking of wheels before Fa Jiang continued,  _“Is that Trillium the Fair, with his Sun-Kissed hair, is already planning for this year's Fall Equinox Festival.”_

“ _Fall Equinox?”_  Tchaikovsky asked,  _“Oh, that will be a perfect time to be changing my fashion!”_

“ _Fashion?”_  Fa Jiang jumped in,  _“What are you going on about?”_

“Here it comes...” Rory hummed, wrapping three cookies in cellophane wrapping, wrapping the opening tight in purple ribbon.

“ _I am thinking of getting a new...”_  Tchaikovsky waited a second.  _“Har-Vest!”_

A chorus of hisses shook the speakers.  _“Cao ni zuzong shiba dai!!”_  Fa Jiang shrieked,  _“I can not stand those puns of yours! We're taking a break with the latest single by Gruaidh and Tavern Bounds! And then we will be back with the weathe – What are you doing now?!”_

“ _What?”_  Tchaikovsky replied,  _“I was thinking that you said 'feather'.”_

Fa Jiang's screams were cut off in favor of music. Rory unpinned his hair, the sweeping curls bouncing before settling. With nothing but a grunt he kicked an entire tote of wrapped cookies towards the dumbwaiter on the kitchen wall. “Down we go.” Rory flipped the switch, the tote slowly sinking down to the floor below his home: the bookstore that was his sole responsibility here in Dama Fristad.

But! With the cookies done, he would need to stop by the Shooting Star Bazaar the next time it opened, he could grab a quick shower before heading downstairs.

Hot showers were things of absolute beauty. The warmth that rolls down your body, leeching out the weariness and aches. A brief piece of solitude to slot into the upcoming day's puzzle.

“ _Now, come along lads!_

_Gunna take you for a ride!_

_Grab ya girls and cup your gnads!_

_Let's get a crack on_

_Delira and excira 'til dawn!”_

Rory forced the shower door open. He scarcely remembered a towel in his haste. Steam plumed up from his skin. A lack of clear sight caused his face to scrunch down at the screen before he quickly answered.

“Oh, hi mum!” Rory's voice could be heard from the other room. “How is everyo...”

The last of the shower water swirled down the drain. “I see. Dad is back to it again, I suppose?”

A towel was tossed into a wicker hamper.

“Right, right... Okay. I'll... I'll send something over first thing tomorrow morning. Hugs all aro--”

Rory, naught upon him but a towel over his shoulders, sighed when his mother cut the conversation to a quick end.

“Right then.” Rory shook his head, water leaving his hair in thick drops before the locks sprung up in sweeping curls.

***

His arms were already laden down with his traveling basket and a smaller tote of cookies. Rory stretched a finger out, scarcely tapping his front door. It was just enough for the minute spirals of magic infused into the wood to spring into action. The lock tumbled into place and Rory turned away, inspecting his basket's contents as much as he was able. A thermos nestled against two covered plastic bowls.

Lunch. And, if he didn't have time to come back home, Dinner as well. Rory made his way down the fire-escape in a gentle stroll.

He stopped, wide eyes looking up towards the Dama Fristad skyline from behind wide glass frames. “Beautiful weather today – Oh!” A rush of freezing air, contrasting against the emblazoned passions of summer, made him secure his hold the basket and the tote.

Rory took ginger steps down the rest of the fire-escape. His gait only returned to its normal balance of speed and distance when he got to the base of the fire-escape. Yet even that was kept slow when he saw what awaited him below.

“Is that...” Rory approached the frigid keepsake. Like the most delicate spun-glass a master could summon up from the sands, a swan was crafted out of the glass-like ice.

Rory took it in his hands. He probably had a good few minutes before it froze his fingertips. In his power-walk towards his storefront, his ears just caught the sound of small footsteps running away: a gale of wind following them.

***

Pecan Pavilion had a swarm of customers, human and otherwise, as soon as Rory had flipped the lights on. The business flow was nice; it kept Rory busy and his mind off of... things. And there was never a static moment.

 

“Surely you can take an even 12?” Said t=The Camazotz who clearly thought he was more than he was.

Rory gave the death-bat a steady smile. “I'm sorry, but no. If you'd like, I can hold it until tomorrow when you have enough.”

The Camazotz rolled his eyes. “You know, most humans would just give me the damn book and be done with it.”

Rory kept his smile sure and gentle. “I suppose. But... I already let you have those last three books on credit. And... You haven't been able to pay me yet.”

The Camazotz gave a shrug. “Fine. Whatever. Guess I'll be back tomorrow.” He didn't turn away without grabbing a small package of Rory's cookies. “It's the least you can do, right?”

Rory could only sigh, beginning to ring up another customer. “Of course.”

***

A cyclops, her eye glaring the several feet down to Rory's level, bared her jagged teeth and snarled, “I'm looking for a book.”

“Oh! Yes!” Rory nodded. He grabbed the rolling ladder behind him and asked the cyclops, “I'll be glad to help. What kind of book was--”

“I want a book without pages.” The cyclops growled up.

Rory nodded. “Yes, yes! A book without...” He stopped mid upward step. “I'm... terribly sorry, my hearing blanks on me sometimes. Did you say  _'a book without pages'_?”

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER?!” The cyclops growled, eye narrowing.

Rory turned back around. “No, no. I'd tally that you didn't.” Rory hopped off of the ladder and walked to the safe behind the counter.

“Where the hell are you going?! What about my book?!”

Round this time, the other customers were starting to roll their eyes and smother scoffs behind their hands.

Rory took the snaps and growls of the cyclops in slow stride. As long as she liked the tablet he was trying to find, that would be all that mattered.

***

“Is my order here?”

Rory looked upon the frazzled woman who approached the counter with a platoon of insectoid toddlers in tow. They ran to every corner of the store and tore anything down they could reach.

Rory flinched as a tower of beginner-level books went toppling down. “I'll go check on that for you.” He offered, smile stable and kind.

Rory took two steps to the stockroom, sighing as more crashes brought screams along with them.

“Mama! Watch this!”

“Look, Mama!”

“I'm hungry~!”

“Mama~! She pushed me~!”

“WOULD ALL OF YOU  _SHUT UP_?!”

Rory fumbled the box in his hands. Before he could catch up to what happened, he broke the box's fall with his foot. Even if it throbbed for the rest of the day, he could soldier through it.

As long as it kept someone happy.

***

Rory placed several mixology books in a bag along with two packages of his cookies. “Was there anything else I can do for you?” He took his hands away from the bag. Slick, winding tendrils of wriggling ink twisted around his wrists.

**“How about your** **phone-number** **?”**  The Nightmare whispered, his words echoing through Pecan Pavilion.

Rory kept a stiff upper-lip. “I'm terribly sorry...” He gave a futile tug. “I have to tend to the rest of the customers before I close up.”

**“Pretty little tease.”**  The Nightmare chuckled, thick drops of bitter ink dripping from his gaping maw,  **“With how often I spend my evenings in your company, we should just make things official. Don't you think?”**

Rory pulled at his arms. It was as if his wrists were trapped in cement. His chest constricted. His pulse tried to pick up to catch his breath. “If... there isn't anything else I can do for you...”

“Hey!” A [Tah-Tah-Kle'-ah](https://pm1.narvii.com/6557/225655deabd7b86ae32802ccc619fe43b0fd380a_hq.jpg) squawked out, “What's the hold up?”

“Some of us have to catch the train, you know!” A possessed suit of armor chimed in. They looked at their phone, groaning, “Oh, my honey-bun is going to be absolutely incensed if I don't get this Alchemy book back to her in time!”

The Nightmare growled in the direction of the dissenters. He retrieved his tendrils, gleaning down at the gentle human.  **“I'll be seeing you soon. _Rory..._ ”**

The Nightmare jumped into the air and disappeared into the floor.

When the Nightmare was gone, Rory rubbed some of the soreness out of one of his wrists. “R-right then.” He waved his hand, “Next customer please!”

***

Rory decided to close up shop around three. It had been a busy day and he had some deliveries to make. Admittedly a few of them had been last-minute requests.

Ten-minutes-before-closing requests.

But. It was okay! Rory was in tip-top shape and ready to go! He flipped the 'Open' sign over to its 'Closed' side and checked his saddlebag. He still had his lunch and his thermos as well as the books that he needed to deliver. “Three stops.” Rory told himself. “City Hall. Rachum Tower. Toxic Love Well.”

His feet had carried him on the practiced path to the Trolley stop as he went over his itinerary. He stepped over a puddle, a discarded piece of cardboard coming along and stopping him from making a splash and messing up his jeans.

An indignant, ragged shout had Rory nearly dropping his bag. He whipped around for the source, seeing a troll swinging a broom at three birds who were frolicking and feasting upon the baskets of bread that were presumably for sale.

“You little bastards!” The troll swung, the birds fluttering up and merely floating back down between swings. “I didn't leave the bridge underside to have my money eaten by you little bastards!”

Rory watched the troll swing and hiss and bite. He walked over. “Excuse me? Sir, I...” The birds, beaks full of dry crust and sweet crumbs, looked up when Rory got closer. They flapped their wings in a rush, swooping over to Rory and landing on his shoulders and hair. “Oh!” Rory chuckled, lips curving up in a warm smile, “Why, hello there.” He chuckled again when one of the birds nuzzled their cheek up against him.

The troll gruffed, wiping down the sweat that had built upon his brow. “You want 'em? Take 'em. Just keep them away from my fucking booth!”

Rory's hand went up before his mouth could wrap around the words he needed. Yet, climbing to the peak of that, the raucous clank of bone-on-brass kicked along the road. Rory turned to see the RBTrolley rolling down the street. “Oh.” Rory jogged after it.

He came back to help the troll with one of his baskets that the birds had knocked to the ground. “You have a good day now!” Rory jogged back to his marked path. The troll shook his head. He wasn't even upset, at least the kid had taken the birds with him.

Rory hopped onto the back of the RBTrolley. One arm held on with a sure grip, the other flashed the Trolley guard his Commute Pass. The guard, a [Nue](http://www.ancientpages.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/nuefeatured.jpg), relaxed his features when he saw that Rory had a pass. The Nue's serpent tail flicked a tongue at his primate face.

The skeletal trolley clacked down the road and Rory, against his confidence, double-checked the contents of his bag. He readjusted his food and tugged down the protective coating over the books. The rushing air made his hair dance like summer reeds, though his curls held fast against the breeze and the steam of the trolley.

A limo rolled up next to the trolley and, though minding his own business would have only taken so much, Rory watched the sleek vehicle glide by. “My...” He whistled, following it as it passed. “Hope you have a good trip!” He waved. Flames surged up behind him. Rory pulled his arm back to his chest. He braced himself as a [Wanyudo](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5c/SekienWanyudo.jpg/250px-SekienWanyudo.jpg) passed, the wheel-shaped body covered in flames was quickly succeeded by two fiery dragons.

The Trolley slowed to a crawling pace when it approached the next stop. The three girls with a crystal ball, a beaker, and a rose for heads hopped on. They sat down, the rose-head and the beaker-head getting close to the crystal ball-head so they could get a good look at her CrystalCaller.

The device was a melding of magic and technology: an alchemical piece that bore a smooth face like a mirror and a clear back of crystal. While you still needed a phone for more reliable communication, the CrystalCallers were a must for playing the latest songs, listening to radio announcements, and browsing the DFSI.

Any young adult in Dama Fristad who was anybody had one.

The three object-headed girls laughed and shrieked, the idol group of their desires displayed on the CrystalCaller.

Rory shook his head with a smile. It seemed only yesterday that that was him, Zach, and Eirwen.

Though Zach never displayed such emotions easily.

Or at all.

***

Rory ducked down, covering his head with his arms. The large form of a [Stymphalian Bird](https://abookofcreatures.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/stymphalian-bird-2.jpg) swooped through the air of Dama Fristad City Hall. “Sorry...” He whimpered, though the bird had already gone on its way. Rory stood up straight and adjusted his hold on his bag.

“Rory? Is that you?”

“Faaria!” Rory turned towards the familiar voice, seeing the well-rounded woman. “Your hijab is really nice today.”

“This old thing?” Faaria tugged a fold of the pearl pink fabric into place. “You flatter me, boy. Anyway, I see you're out delivering books again.” She gave Rory a bump of her hip, laughing when he waved his hands about to frantically retrieve his balance. “You should look into having someone handle deliveries for you.”

“Oh, I wouldn't want to bother anyone with that...” Rory sighed, “Oh, hey. Do you know where I should drop this delivery? I didn't get the exact name for the customer.” He chuckled though he could tell that Faaria was building up the ingredients for a tirade.

However, she only sighed. “Rory, you are far too trusting. What's going to happen if you go and get yourself in trouble, ah?”

“I know...” Rory relented, “I just had a busy mo--”

_Grrrmmm..._

Rory looked down to his stomach. Faaria followed his line of sight. “Hm. Forgot lunch?”

“And breakfast...” Rory added in a short exhale.

Faaria planted her hands upon her hips, tapping a shoe to the floor. “Alright.” She folded her arms. “This is what we are going to do. You are going to sit here and  _eat_  something while I go and find whoever it is who ordered books from a self-preservation-lacking cutie.”

Rory's eyes went wide and he shook his head, “But I should really --”

“ _No..!_ ” Faaria met him half-step and pushed him down onto a bench. “Sit here. I will be right back.”

Rory watched Faaria pull a phone out of her pocket. A tap of a screen and she was talking away. “Hey! Where are you right now? Actually, don't even answer that. I need you to...”

She was halfway across City Hall when Rory shook his head. Well... she  _had_  told him to wait. And Faaria knew almost  _everyone_  in City Hall. If anyone could find his mystery purchaser, it had to be her.

Rory set the needed packages next to him on the bench and brought out his thermos. The flurry of footfalls, paw-presses, and talon-ticking came together in one great hum of noise.

Rory took a sip and looked around. “And I thought the  _Pavilion_  was busy...” He didn't know how Faaria did it. Though she was definitely one of the more talkative members of their group of friends.

Just when he was thinking about checking in on Zach later, that all-too familiar flutter of purple caught his eyes.

“O-oh.” Despite himself, Rory found himself looking away from the plum and amethyst hues with a soft dusting of pink upon his cheeks. “Hello there.” He took another sip from his thermos. “I'm sorry that you don't have someone to wear you yet.”

Of course, dresses didn't speak.

Even if they could, how would one hear too-soft words across a bustling building full of humans and nonhumans? Rory took another drink from his thermos. Perhaps he should actually  _eat_  something so Faaria wouldn't chew him out. Rory had a fingertip rat-a-tat-tatting on the lid of his thermos. He turned around and, well, he didn't recall putting anything in his basket that would make it shake. Rory flipped the lid of the basket open. His eyes were forced to watch a fuzzy butt wriggling in the air; a matching tail lashing too and fro. Rory pursed his lips once the ravenous chewing began. “Hey.”

The small creature, a goblin, peeked out of the basket. It glared its beady red eyes up at Rory, its hiss sending spittle everywhere.

“Hey now.” Rory didn't wait twice. He picked the growling little hell-spawn by the scruff of its neck and set it on the empty spot of the bench.

The goblin hissed and growled and probably called Rory's mother a whore in a tongue that was just out of human grasp. Yet, even with all of that, Rory didn't shout at it or try smacking it away. He merely reached into the basket and grabbed the plastic container that now hosted a dozen claw and tooth marks. “It's not everyday that I find someone who can appreciate a good Colcannon.”

The goblin leapt back, baring its teeth in the midst of a loathsome face. Rory merely set the plate down in front of the small creature. It looked upon the savory medley of fried cabbage, aromatic scallions, sweet cream, salted butter, and mashed potatoes before looking back to Rory.

“Go on.” Rory laughed when the goblin literally jumped in. The sounds it made, gulping and nearly choking as it shoveled food into its mouth, were admittedly gross. But if Rory had food to share, he would. It wasn't like he didn't have another plate of food waiting in the basket or anything.

***

Faaria was tugging along an old [Pixiu](https://www.chinatown-shop.com/138521/pixiu-2.jpg), the winged-lion not looking to enthused as she narrowed her already almondine eyes. “Why couldn't this  _human_  bring my books to me rather than having  _me_  hunting  _him_  down?”

“As if he would have been able to find you on the roof!” Faaria pushed the Pixiu until she could see regained her bearings. “Rory! I found your custo – By Allah!”

Rory could only give a calm smile. A dozen goblins were climbing all over him, eating out of both his containers of food. Though anything resembling 'food' was fast diminishing.

“Rory!” Faaria shouted, “You don't need to allow that!”

“But...” Rory watched the first goblin crawl into his lap. It patted its round stomach and stretched out, its tail curling, until he went to sleep. “They were hungry.” He added, gently scratching behind the goblin's tiny ears.

***

The next stop of the day was the quietest of the three and it was a welcome shift from the hustle-bustle bump-and-grind of City Hall. Rory hopped off of the RBTrolley, gathering his belongings close to himself. El Doradus, the district of Dragons that was oft hidden in the clouds above Dama Fristad. It was open, primarily, to dragons and the children of Abraham. However, matters of deliveries could be handled at Rachum Tower.

The Rachum Tower was carved from bronze: reaching up to the clouds above, gnarling and mighty. While most dragons were born with wings, dragons of the sea and others could climb up the tower to the gilded haven above.

Of course, a direct loop to the home of dragons had to be guarded from those who would attack the draconian, Hebrew population.

“Hello Solomon.” Rory called up to that guard. Solomon was a Golem. The very same Golem who had been hewn from the earth to protect the Jewish population of Prague so very long ago. The birds, who had held fast onto Rory this whole time, fluttered over to roost upon the Golem's shoulders and carved hair.

The Golem loomed over Rory, several feet higher and with his form as impassive as the clay he was sculpted from.

“Oh, r-right.” Rory brought out the needed package, “Someone in El Doradus ordered these. Could you please make sure that they get to them?”

Solomon was quiet. Yet, after the birds got comfortable, Rory was gifted with the sound of stone rubbing against stone as Solomon reached for the books. He plucked them out of Rory's hands, his fingers alone dwarfing the young man's arms, and opened a cavity at the tower's base. In went the books, the cavity was shut, and Rory could feel boughs of titanic cogs and gears rumbling underneath human, Golem, and tower. “Well...” Rory cleared his throat, “They paid in advance. I should probably get going. Oh!”

Solomon watched Rory set a box of cookies in one of Solomon's hands. “I hope you like them. Kosher, as always.”

Rory jogged away, as the RBTrolley never waited for anyone. Solomon watched the human hop onto the approaching trolley. Solomon walked back to his post, cookies in his hand. He followed the train until it was out of sight, not out of mind, before looking down at the box.

“An amethyst Heart.”

***

“ _Five minutes to Miasmus. Please put on your Filtering Masks or arm your Purification Charms now. If you have neither, please vacate the trolley at the next stop.”_

Rory had begun digging through his bag at 'Miasmus'. He pulled out a sturdy gas-mask and quickly mounted it upon his face. A flick of a small switch just under the strap and he was able to spend the rest of the ride confident in the air he breathed.

He watched a few passengers disembark. Out of having reached their locations or the end of their personal lines, Rory didn't know.

The trolley chugged along. The trolley pierced through the foul-smelling boundary outside, sending a tingling crawling over Rory's skin.

The trolley continued for a while more. It rattled to a stop, finally, in front of a train station sculpted up from the ground in congealed oil covering the hardened secretions of a thousand snails.

“End of the Line!” The skeleton conductor rattled out, “Ludovico Station, Miasmus!”

***

On the sixth avenue of Miasmus's Hemlock block, there was a well. This well, simple assuming structure of bricks and stone, bored deep into the earth.

If one needed a mask or any means of protection from the worst of Miasmus's corruption, they would need it near this well. This well that expelled sulfurous odors and patchouli perfumes.

Rory walked up the the toxic well. He took the basket that was resting by the well's rim and set his last package inside of it. He gently pushed it off into the beginning of darkness. He grabbed the sticky rope and slowly, slowly lowered the bucket down, down.

He wished he could have seen the face of this customer, who ordered so many of his books about the world beyond... The world before. Everything.

Something seized the bucket, the rope going taught for a brief moment. The moment it relaxed, Rory pulled the bucket back. Gone was the package, replaced by a few monetary notes and coins covered in grime.

***

Ra was busy glaring down Tsukuyomi, both insisting on separate matters of the time. Rory knew what time it was, though. “Time for these tired bones...” He chuckled to himself, soft bags forming underneath his eyes. “To get some rest.”

Dama Fristad was a wonderful city and he wouldn't trade it for the world. But traveling all over was still tiring and ate up the whole day. He just wanted to get to bed so he could rest up for tomorrow's money transfer.

The fire-escape was cold.

Rory's eyes snapped open. He had a guest. A familiar one at that.

They were so young. They couldn't be older than ten or eleven. Their hair was fraying short, curving in towards his frosty cheeks. The clothing he wore could barely be called that: a simple shirt, tattered pants, and a cloak full of holes.

The child was surrounded by frost and mist. Wherever he touched the ground or the steps leading to Rory's door was frozen over.

Rory was shocked or dismayed.

He straightened himself up, put on a stiff upper-lip, and stepped forward. “Hello there.” The child looked up at Rory, a slight warmth in his eyes. “I was hoping that I'd see you today.”

***

The frost-covered child sat on Rory's stuffed couch. He was helping himself to some of the leftover cookies while Rory worked in the kitchen.

“Don't eat too many, now!” Rory gently called over, “You need to have room for dinner. Don't worry, though. I'll pack some of those up for you.”

The child didn't respond aside from wrapping his scarf around himself a bit tighter.

Rory sighed. His hands sprinkled some freshly ground pepper to the soup on the stove: the rustic smell of chicken sausage and red potatoes bubbled up to the ceiling to dance with rosemary and thyme. Rory covered the pot to let the soup simmer. Just enough time to text someone. Who though?


	29. Kind Heart, Shining Heart

* * *

 

 

Rory puffed his cheeks up. Tossed his phone on the counter. Eirwen always got so weird at the most random moments. But now what? Rory didn't want to bother Zach, not with all of the stress managing several supernatural tenants entailed.

He shook his head and turned off the heat. “Dinner's ready!”

He plucked two bowls from the pantry and two spoons from the drawer while he could hear one of the tables scratching against the floor.

The wash of sudden cold over his face was a welcome respite away from his burning labors. Even if it caused his glasses to fog with condensation. Rory dipped a ladle into the rich broth, catching plenty of the steaming sausage and vegetables, and poured it out into the child's bowl.

“Wait so you don't burn yourself.” Rory warned, the child pouting and blowing over the soup. Immediately it evened out to room temperature and he began to eat.

Rory sat down and picked up his own spoon, waiting for the soup to cool. Not everyone had ice powers. The little one was eating fairly fast. Rory sighed.

_Why?_

_Why_  did he...

“You know that,” Rory said, setting his spoon beside his own bowl, “You don't have to leave.”

The child continued on with his food.

“I may not have much. But what I do have I'm  _more_  than willing to share with you. So,  _please_... Don't feel like you have to go out there. That you have to struggle on your own.”

Much to Rory's dismay, however, the child pushed forward an empty bowl and hopped down from his chair. He watched him climb onto the couch and lay down: belly full and warm against the permafrost that was his being.

Rory looked down at his soup. Why was he like this? 'Why can't I help people where it really matters?'

He decided to finish his food later. Right then, he needed to make the couch more comfortable. “Blankets and pillows.”

_Squeak-eak!_

“Hey!” Rory knelt down to see the family of mice who lived in the walls of his house. “How are you guys doing? Did you get the crackers to go along with the cheese yesterday?”

The mice squeaked and nodded before a slew of them rushed off somewhere. They eventually returned, carrying a blanket and a pillow. “You guys didn't have to do that.” Rory grinned, “But I'm thankful. Here, let me take those and I'll get you guys some soup.”

***

The mice had been fed and they even helped to clean the kitchen so Rory could make sure the frigid child was comfortably sleeping in his bed.

“If you need  _anything_ , anything at all,” Rory told him, brushing the cool strands out of his eyes, “I'll be just down the hall. Good night.”

Rory walked down the hall towards the main room and the made-up couch. The cushions weren't so bad, really. And he would be close to the kitchen for his morning baking. Maybe this would even convince the child to stay.

“Eirwen is so good with words.” He muttered, setting his glasses on the dining table and rolling over. “When he isn't being weird. Faaria's energetic and approachable. And Zach is blunt and forward.” Rory pulled the blanket up to his chest, relaxing into the pillow as much as he was able. “When am I going to be someone... who can really  _help_  people?”

***

Snowflakes landed upon the child's lashes. They shattered when he roused from slumber. He sat up, looking around the room and its icy facets.

It was happening again.

He jumped down from the bed and walked into the main room, tendrils of inky darkness already leeching into the carpeting and the walls.

“Nngh...”

He quickened his pace.

**“Such a lovely mind... and a heart of amethyst...”**

How was he  _still_  at it? Didn't he learn from the first dozen 'no's?

The snowy child crept into the main room, peeking from behind the bookcase. Rory was writhing in bed, digging his fingers into the blanket. Sweat beaded down his brow in a steady cascade. His voice was cut to pained groans and whimpers. All because of the lecherous Nightmare corrupting his slumbering visions.

The snowy child held out their palm, ice and frost swirling together into a sizable ball.

 **“You make for the sweetest** **nightma** **\-- GAH!”**  The Nightmare coughed and sputtered as the chill of fresh ice rolled down his form.  **“Who _dares_  to – ACK!”**

The child pelted the Nightmare with another snowball. And then two more. He kept making and throwing, each ball landing with a crack and a slide.

 **“You again? You little shit.”**  The Nightmare hissed, its essence scabbing over wherever the ice landed and slid to.  **“Shit, it _burns_! What matter of miserable creature  _are you_?!”**

The child didn't respond. Even he didn't know. He threw two more snowballs, the Nightmare shrinking back.  **“Gah, fine! This isn't over! I won't be kept away from this morsel for long!”**  He jumped up and burrowed into the shadows on the floor, his presence soon leaving the building entirely.

When the Nightmare abated, the child relaxed and looked down at Rory. He was already starting to calm down, though there were telltale tenses near his eyes.

The child wished that he could do more. Rory, with his overly gentle heart and kind actions, deserved a princess's ransom in kind returns.

The most he could do is keeping the worst of offenders away from this house. Even with that Nightmare  _not. Getting. The hint._


	30. KaijuKlickster!! Session 1

* * *

 

 

The main good thing about video games is that they're amazing for escaping one's negative brain-space.

Mira was amazing at doing just that. And he was a repeat customer: the Mimic spending hours upon hours slamming away at buttons and staring down the avatars on-screen.

That evening he was chiming in a six-win rank in his favorite fighting game and he was well on his way to ticking in another number. But the universe felt like being that one cake donut to ruin a perfect pink box of donuts. He noticed a persistent blip on the small desktop window he had to access KaijiKlickster: the prime chat and stream service for nonhuman gamers.

Mira himself was already building up a decent chunk of a following, but he would never brag about that. No, that's what the live-counter on the side of his streaming window was for.

Still, this one blinking was getting on his nerves.

 

 

"He's not gonna do it." Mira reassured himself, rolling the eye in his head and the eye in his chest.

 

Mira took his controller in his hands, finally ready to play his game.

Character select, skin select...

Just had to find a match.

Just had to...

No. Wait...

_“Fuck!!”_ Mira tossed his controller to the ground.

Now he wasn't in the mood.

 


	31. The Doctor Will See You Now

* * *

 

 

Coffee, black and acrid in the air, boils away inside a ceramic percolator. He yawns, a tongue topped in black tapping against a perfectly straight row of teeth.

The door opens, footsteps absent but the warm weight of a new presence coming into the room anyway.

_“Is that coffee?”_

“Mm-hm.” The first individual stirs in some creamer. The bottle bore the face of a friendly female bovine; the creamer thick and sweet. “In a sweet mood today?”

_“No, no,”_  The warm presence says, something fluttering about,  _“Let the bitterness come through without fodder.”_ A cup of the steaming brew pours out into a mug that floats up into the air. It tips over, but the flow doesn't spill to the floor; it is swallowed by something unseen.  _“What are your appointments today?”_

“I only have the one.”

The floating mug stills.  _“The boy?”_

A smile, full lips surrounded by five o'clock shadow. “The boy.”

The floating mug tips over once more. The bitter drink slips into nothingness, emptying soon after.  _“It amazes me that he's still going. But... I suppose strength shows itself in more than one regard.”_ The mug rests back upon the counter.  _“Another for the road, please? I have couples therapy in a few minutes.”_

A chuckle is succeeded by the cup filling up with the sharp sluice. “Good luck. Though I don't imagine you need it.”

The cup floats upwards once more, the warm presence leaving in several brief beats of wings.

Left alone, he sips at his coffee once more. The ripples from the motion slow, allowing the reflection of an older man to sift through. An impressive specimen: broad shoulders, salt-and-peppered hair, and that shadowy goatee all offset a pair of black buttons sewed into where one's eyes would be.

A Beaudam, the paternal counterpoints to their child-kidnapping sisters: the Beldams. The Beaudam picks up a napkin from the counter. He huffs into it before lifting it to one of his buttons and wiping it to a lovely shine. “Alright,” Says he, “An hour on the clock. Let's get things...”

***

“Started.” The Beaudam walks into a room pale as spider's silk but smooth like a pregnant cocoon. “How about calm burgundies and purples for this session?” The Beaudam asks the office. Immediately, the long stretches of opalescent white flip over to reveal melting gradients of rich burgundy and royal, relaxing purple. Several stretches of web reach up from the floor. They twist and wind round each other: layering and curving until a red velvet couch stood in their place. More bustles of strands repeat the process. They create an armchair, a tall standing lamp, and a record player.

That last item, still and cold and blue in the growing warmth of the room, gives the Beaudam a pause. “Let's hope...” Eyelids blink over shiny black buttons, “That we won't need that today.”

He turns to check over his office once more, hoping that the faintest bit of silk has been overcome by color.

Good.

He's all set.

The Beaudam strolls from one side of the room to the other where a small speaker was mounted into the wall. “Dolores?” He says when he presses the button.

“E'yes, Dr. Bodicen?” The speaker crackles.

“Is my one o'clock here?” Dr. Bodicen asks, button eyes looking up towards the digital clock-face above the speaker.

The speaker crackles to life once more. “I'll send him in right now.”

“You're a wonder.” Dr. Bodicen chuckles and turns the speaker off. The Beaudam walks to the armchair and takes a seat. In and out, simple breaths. He just needs his clipboard and pen and...

Dr. Bodicen looks around and sighs. “Clipboard, please.” The ceiling opens up to spit out a clipboard; a pen falling into Dr. Bodicen's free hand. “Thank you.” He says, shaking the sticky clipboard free of saliva. It's on the thinner side, more like water, so it soon wicks and dries away.

Now.

To wait.

He waits and waits, tapping his pen against the clipboard: to get all of the jitters out. On the wall, the clock heaves it's heavy lines and fits them into place.

1:00 PM.

There's a knock at the door.

“Just a minute.” Dr. Bodicen stands to his feet. As he walks, he considers the boon of deciding on the white dress shirt and the black slacks today.

Dr. Bodicen, upon reaching the door, takes a low breath. The door opens. “Zachary Bruys. Come on in.” Those expressionless eyes, even more spriteless than Dr. Bodicen's buttons, look up at the Beaudam.

***

“Please,” Says Dr. Bodicen, waving a hand towards the couch, “Have a seat.”

“Can't see myself doing much else.” Zach replies in simple monotone. He does sit down, though. Without a second word from the Beaudam, he lays down: head resting against the couch's arm.

“I just wanted to give you some time to decompress before we get started.” Dr. Bodicen holds a hand out besides himself.

Zach closes his eyes. “Too much coffee can't be good for you.”

Sure enough, the Beaudam's previously abandoned mug spat into his hand. Though he could only chuckle. “I'd offer the same bit of caution.” He takes a sip, black-tipped tongue licking the rest from his lips. “But we both know that you're practically immune to even the most concentrated cup.”

Zach opens his eyes. “Sometimes I wish I knew why.” Dr. Bodicen waits a moment to make sure that Zach was comfortable.

“It's been a while since your last appointment.”

Zach replies, “Lot of changes. Guess I've been too busy.” He rests one hand over his stomach and lets the other dangle to the floor. “I finally rented out the extra space in 1685.”

“Oh good! Great to hear.” Says Dr. Bodicen. He jots something down on his notepad, more for his own recollection than anything else. “So you haven't been locked away in your tower all alone.”

“You make it sound like I don't have a life.” Zach says. “I manage the condo. I go to the gym four times a week. Once a month I hang out with Rory and Eirwen. And I'm always traveling between the districts.”

Tap-tap, taps the pen against the clipboard. “If you can boil down your life to several activities, then you don't necessarily have a life.”

The mug was empty at this point. Dr. Bodicen scrapes a line across the sheet. “Tell me about your tenants, Zach.”

“It's a chaotic mix of a bunch of guys. And one ball of curious slime. Nothing much to report.”

“Surely one of them has managed to pique some sort of interest.” Dr. Bodicen insists. It makes Zach look down to his hand resting on his stomach.

“I guess there's Abelard.” Zach starts, clarifying, “He's a Wendigo. The European kind. He's nice enough: doesn't go out of his way to start trouble. He has three daughters, though.”

“Three? Seems like a handful.”

Zach agrees with a nod. “I helped enroll them into Fae Rock. To help him have some peace of mind.”

“I would insist that you are the one in need of peace of mind.” Dr. Bodicen scratches over the clipboard again. “But, I should say... The older, single father? Ah, Zachary, but you have a type.” Dr. Bodicen chuckles, scratching his own 5 o'clock shadow.

“Never denied it.” Zach tosses back. Dr. Bodicen chuckles for the both of them. Zach goes quiet. Deathly so; still looking up at the ceiling. It starts to make Dr. Bodicen a little unsettled until Zach closes his eyes.

“I had the dream again.”

Dr. Bodicen stills. The lack of motion stirs when he sets the clipboard and pen on the floor and stands to his feet. He steps over to the record player in the room and, reaching into the small cabinet beneath it, pulls out a smooth vinyl record.

He places it upon the platter, the device beginning a slow, leisurely spin. Dr. Bodicen rests the stylus upon the record, not flinching once at the few skips of sound that follow him back to his chair.

Elbows resting against his thighs, chin upon his fingers. “Whenever you're ready.”

Zach follows the grain of the ceiling above. “It starts out like the others. Dark room, lit with candles. Someone's holding me, singing something into my ear. I...” He covers his eyes with his hand, “I can never remember what it is whenever I wake up. It's like it gets swept away and forced behind several thick... walls.”

Dr. Bodicen leans back in his chair. “Sometimes our brains try to keep things away from immediate recollection.” He fiddles with the pen in his fingers, “For protection. For maturation.”

Zach doesn't respond at first; instead, looking at his hands. “A door is open. I'm lead deep... deep into the darkness. The air smells damp. Rotten. It tastes like salt.”

Dr. Bodicen opens his mouth but Zach jumps in again.

“I see others. They're all so young. But someone screams. Something hits a wall. A candle wavers,” Zach follows the ceiling's design with his finger. “I hear something splash against the stone floors. And then... Nothing.”

Dr. Bodicen waits, leaned back in his chair. When Zach seems content in remaining silent, he speaks once more. “A few different details this time. What do you think they meant?”

Zach thinks for a second. Lips move around a word but only later does he say, “That I'm so desperate to see my parents again that I'm imagining them as buried treasure?”

“An interesting deduction.” Says Dr. Bodicen, fingers smoothing down his goatee. He looks to the clock fading in from the webs and ether of the wall. “Well, it looks like our session is over for the day. Was there anything else you wanted to, you know, lay out on the table?”

Dr. Bodicen looks down to his empty clipboard for a second. Just a second. When he lowers it and looks up once more.

Zach had gotten up from the chair; looking down at the Beaudam with those imposing, blank eyes.

“Yeah.” Zach brushes his hair back. He follows the minute gesture by hooking his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifting the fabric up; a shock of hardened ab muscles peeking out. “Me.”

Dr. Bodicen attempts to keep his button eyes from drifting lower.

It's a failed effort. “Mr. Bruys... As a professional, I have to remind you that pursuing a relationship of this nature with your therapist is highly unethical.”

The door breaks the relative silence in two with a resounding click. “However...” Dr. Bodicen grins, teeth glinting in the room's dimming light. “My professional hours have  _just_  rolled over.”

***

Dr. Bodicen scours every inch and cranny of his office after Zach has left. He carries a can of air freshener (the good stuff, with the silver label) with him as he strives to make sure that Zach really had gotten all of his clothes before leaving. He was a professional, after all.

Luckily, though, the webs of his room didn't shiver with the presence of anything out of order. “At least there's that.” Dr. Bodicen gives a few sprays behind the chair.

And on the chair.

And in his armchair.

… Maybe two more sprays for his armchair. Damn that boy's lower-body strength was enviable.

Dr. Bodicen tosses the can into the air when it was empty. A length of web shoots down and seizes before assimilating it into the walls.

He wished that he had time to sit down and reflect on the previous session.

But it wasn't done yet. Dr. Bodicen approaches his record player. Well-practiced motions soon had the record, now with music overwritten by the contents of the session, removed and dipped into a protective sleeve.

There was something about elevators that just managed to lurch one's stomach up and then screw it back into place.

And that was just normal elevators. What about one that descended far, far beneath the building that the clinic was hosted in. Far beneath the crust of the earth and then past rushing groundwater finding its way into the greater waterways.

The elevator clangs and creaks as it lands upon damp stone. No sooner had the great brass doors opened does Dr. Bodicen walk out: record in hand and button-eyes narrowed in focus.

He keeps his steps steady, slow as he walked over slick stones. They grow darker the further he goes: ivory white and bubbling waters, bricks of sapphire laid into the ground to signal the lifting blue tide.

The stone and cool earth disintegrated into sand the hue of pitch, Dr. Bodicen stops on the edge of the dark sands and looks.

Just looks.

At the shapeless void that is the black water. It didn't ripple, it didn't bubble.

It was just there.

Dr. Bodicen sighs and holds the record up in his hand. “How much longer,” He began, hurling the record into the slick abyss, “Do you expect us to keep on with this performance?”

The record plummets into the water. Not even leaving a simple disturbance of the surface.

Dr. Bodicen folds his arms. He taps a foot onto the sand. Impatience grew and bubbled but he didn't let any of it spill. Dr. Bodicen turns a scant inch to the left.  

...

...

. 

. 

.


	32. Geography at Fae Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's take a peek at how the younger nonhuman generations learn about the world around them. The world outside of Dama Fristad...

* * *

 

 

Fae Rock Academy. While there were dozens of schools and places of primary education in Dama Fristad, Fae Rock was unique in its ease of admission and warming welcomes to both students and their parents.

After all...

***

“Masumi-chan~!”

A Moon Bunny, like a white rabbit large enough to come up to your waist, hopped across the school-grounds. She stopped and rested on her hind-legs, her apron fluttering in the soft breeze as she adjusted her headscarf.

Masumi, the little Moon-Bunny with horns sprouting from her head, hopped out of one of the residential cabins. “Mama!” Masumi shouted, hopping into her mother's arms. “I made more marshmallows for you and Daddy!”

“Ah, did you?” Masumi's mother playfully gasped. She licked at her paw and smoothed down the fur between Masumi's horns. “You'll have to teach me your recipe.”

“Mama~!” Masumi pouted, “It's a secret~!”

***

It's been proven that children function better with parental engagement. The same went for nonhumans.

 

The geography room was a buzz of activity. With maps of the world hanging on every wall, each table dotted with a floating ceramic globe, and a bookcase stuffed with atlases of varying complexity. The wide room was well-prepared to teach children of all ages and types about the world outside of Dama Fristad's walls.

Though... certain aspects of it could be kept away until they were older.

“Alright guys!” Eirwen called out with a gentle clap of his hands. The two other teachers on duty calmed their students down, urging their attention to the human in the room.

“We can go back to coloring and matching maps in a bit,” Eirwen promised, shaking his head at the few groans he got, “Right now we have to do a lesson or two. It's not anything too hard, don't worry.”

Eirwen clapped his hands together, the whiteboard and the adjacent walls fading into a pale glow. “Now,” Eirwen waved towards a familiar shape that appeared on the pale board, “Who knows what this is? Come on, anyone can answer.”

“I recognize it!” Said Besame, the young death-bat adjusting his round frames, “Five districts. Six if you look up in the air. It's Dama Fristad!”

“Very good!” Eirwen nodded, turning to the faded screen and waving a hand over the surface to zoom out. Beyond the wide reaches of Dama Fristad's safe walls, the students looking upon the shape of what used to be the United States. Now the bloated land mass was portioned off into three uneven boundaries. “How about this?”

“The Freedom-Divided States!” Beatrisa called out, Eirwin nodding to let her know she had said the right answer.

“And who knows the names of the three States? Anyone?”

The class was quiet as the children all had to think about that. They were nestled in their own little corner there in Dama Fristad. The chaos of the nation outside the walls was something that could be put out of mind.

A flutter of cloth had Eirwen calling upon the young creature in the sheet. “Yes Juke?”

~~“Sou. California.”~~ He muttered, ~~“Heartland. And... The 13th?”~~

“Excellent!” Eirwen clapped (Heidi and a few others following the gesture), “Yes, Dama Fristad is nestled here in Sou. California.” He didn't specify; merely circled his hand around the space that encompassed the former California, Oregon, Nevada, Washington, and Colorado states. “Then there's Heartland. Hm,” Eirwen tapped the vast majority of the continent: from a portion with a faded ''zona' to 'Flowering Riders' hanging off into the Atlantic Ocean, “Supposedly it's full of buffalo and twisters as far as the eye can see!” He winked at his students, letting a few of them giggle at the mental image of cows and twisters spinning over dusty trails. “Then The 13th. We...” Eirwen rubbed the abrupt cough out of his throat, “W-we don't have to talk about that one until you guys are older – Anyway!” Eirwen thought for a moment. Which place to show next? He ended up moving the board to show an island nation surrounded by whirlpools that shined bright like the sun.

“Who knows what country this is?” Eirwen asked the class, adding, “I'll give you a hint. It's one of the few places you can find natural cherry blossom trees.”

“Ooh!” Masumi hopped up, shooting a paw up into the air, “Akatsuki! My grandma lives in Hokkaido!”

“Oh, that's right.” Eirwen turned around, messing around with the board. “There are a lot of mountains and shorelines in Akatsuki, aren't there?”

Marumi nodded. “Yep! There's also a bunch of--”

“And the whole place is surrounded,” The wild wolf-girl jumped onto the table, grinning sharply and curling her growing claws, “By hungry kaiju! Rrroar!”

The reaction was immediate: Beatrisa and some of the younger students, as well as the timid giant, jumping for cover and whining.

“Clawssie!” Eirwen whipped around. He charged over to the tables, “That was an awful thing to do. Do I need to call your parents about your behavior?”

“No..!” The wolf-girl gave a pitiable howl. She jumped off the table and scrambled back into her seat, her tail wrapping around her and her ears laying flat against her hair. “Don't call them! I'll be good...”

Eirwen folded his arms, shaking his head, “That wasn't a nice thing to say. All of your moms and dads have come from places where people shout things just like that at them. Do you want to make others feel bad like that?”

It came in uneven breaks and pauses, but the entirety of the class replied, “No, Mr. Eirwen.”

The creature underneath the sheet looked up from the desk and looked at Eirwen. At one changing detail. “Mm.” He flapped one side of his sheet. Familiar with the sound of gently fluttering fabric, Eirwen turned towards him, “Yes, Juke?”

~~“Your hair's... turning white...”~~

Eirwen choked and seized his ponytail to look at it. The black was faltering against the white again. Damn it, why had he let himself get angry? No. No...

“No. I can finish this lesson.” Eirwen told the room's air. He took a deep breath. He needed the steadying grace. “Okay.” He nodded and then drudged up his favored smile. “Let's look at a few more countries and then we'll call it a day.” Eirwen waved over the board, the map expanding and spinning until it got to a familiar conglomerate of nations.

Of course, a lot of them were divided by barriers of dark clouds, jagged divides into the earth's mantle, and many other separating elements.

“They speak French in this country.” Eirwen held an open hand underneath his chosen area.

“France?”

“France?” The tooth fairy twins, Pepper Mint and Winter Mint, guessed.

Eirwen chuckled but had to reject the answer. “That's a very good guess. It did used to go by that name. But, no. This is the Versailles Court.” He pointed to the cluster of island nations, the largest portion in the center surrounded by dark clouds. “The easiest way to remember is to think about the Divided Kingdom being sprinkled right above it.”

Some of the children took notes, others were distracted by chatting amongst themselves. It would be the young reindeer-deer Blitzelle. He did a quick skimming over of the board before knocking a hoof to the table. “Mr. Eirwen?”

“Yes Blitzelle?” Eirwen replied, redoing his ponytail and hoping to God above that the white would die down.

“Can I name some more countries?” Blitzelle asked, “Can I? Please?”

Eirwen had to give up. He would deal with it when the kids had their snacktime. “Sure thing. In fact, anyone can join in but remember to...”

“'Raise your hands, wings, or knock on the table'.” Recited the children. Blitzelle clip-clopped to the board and, shaking himself, brought a warm cinnamon glow to his antlers. He tilted his head to the left, the board reacting to the corresponding glowing horn.

Upon seeing a massive expanse of land surrounded by hastily scribbled snowflakes and icicles, Blitzelle called out, “That one's the W.U.S.R.”

Blitzelle made the board move lower and to the right, bringing attention to the African continent that had long been divided into its two empires. “Akwukwo Ndu.” He addressed the upper half, green and lush, before looking down to the lower, drier half, “The Southern Union. And...” Blitzelle stepped back a bit. “That's... all I know, heh.”

“That's more than okay!” Eirwen was quick to reassure the reindeer-deer, “You've been studying, haven't you?”

Blitzelle nodded. He clip-clopped back to his seat and sat down just in time for Heidi to raise her hand.

“Of course, dear.” Eirwen stepped aside and let the little European Wendigo walk up to the board. Heidi lifted up to her tippy-toes and made the board spin back around to the chaotic mess that was Europe. She looked around, squinting her eyes. Finally, she found it.

“Koniglicher-Blitz.”

Constanz lifted up from her spot at the table and let out a happy hiss, like water onto a hot pan.

“Very good, Heidi.” Eirwen ushered her back to her seat before turning off the magic board, “That goes for all of you. Even though some,” He gave a knowing look to Pepper Mint and Winter Mint, the giant, and to Clawssia, “Of you need to do some studying.” Eirwen glanced at one of the floating globes. He watched it bob and roll quietly. “This world is a great, wide treasure. I hope...” He watched as another teacher arrived to take the kids to the cafeteria, “I hope that you all will grow up, happy and healthy, so you can make the most of it.”

When the last little footfall had left the room, Eirwen pulled some of his hair closer to his line of sight. The white was still holding strong, promising him a date with hair-dye that night.

“Be better than us.”


	33. Sweet Sunset

* * *

 

 

 

Were Silas in control of his own voice, he would have screamed as he just managed to duck out of the way of the cocoa-scented reptile in the room.

All of the students of Chef's class at Keebalah Culinary were huddled on one side of the room, trying to stay away from the vicious, snapping...

“Cocoadile!” Chef called out, “Stop pissing yer pants and get over here! I didn't wrestle this thing in here just to see the lot of ya cry like wee babies.”

The Cocoadile curled around, hissing towards the students. Its maw dripped with dark chocolate syrup, its scales were toffee. “You'll be hard pressed to find any purer source of chocolate than Cocoadile.” He stomped his foot to the ground, sending the tables, students, and even the Cocoadile into the air for a moment.

“Um, Chef?” One of the students raised their hand, “W-wouldn't cacao beans be the purest source of--”

“Ya get an 'F' for the day! OUT!” Chef snapped out, the poor student burying their face into their hands as they left the room.

When they were gone, Chef spoke up: his eyes tracking the snarling sweet beast, “There are natural sources of the world's sweeter nature. Those are what a real confectionery elite strives to work with. The Strawlamander! The Volenilla! The Cashewary! And...”

The Cocoadile snapped its jaws at a student who had gotten too close. However, Chef folded his arms and shouted, “One of ya needs to wrestle this thing down or its 'F's for all of ye!”

“Come on, ya piece of shit!” Susannah pulled at the Cocoadile's tail: chocolate sloughing off and caking into her nails. The Cocoadile whipped its tail and slipped out of her grasp, scuttling over the floor. “Damn it. Silas! Catch him before he gets away!”

Silas gulped and spread out his arms. What that was going to do? Who the hell really knew. In fact, the damn Cocoadile ended up swerving around him.

'Fuck me...' Silas signed out.

Chef Ernest watched his students run around, flop, and almost get shattered in their pursuit of calming the Cocoadile down long enough to harvest some of its being.

After the fifteen minute-mark, though, he stomped a foot to the ground: kitchen shaking and even jostling the Cocoadile a bit.

“You're all pathetic!” He stomped out of the room, grumbling about getting a cage for the creature scuttling around the room. Once the door had slammed shut those inside finally felt as though they could breathe.

Susannah scrubbed her hand down her uniform, scoffing at the streaks of brown that now marred it. “If my Grandmama saw me getting bested by that 'gator, she'd tan my hide...”

'You did what you could.' Silas signed, though Matvey was quick to sneer from his and Saccharin's island,

“And that was hardly being anything.”

Susannah's pout brought those ruby lips front and center. “Aw, cram it up your seven asses, ya Polly Pocket.”

Silas couldn't help the chuckle that rose from that.

***

Chef Ernest stepped into one of Keebalah Tech's supply closets and rooted around for the supplies he needed. “They can't bake,” He gruffed out, scratching his belly, “They can't gather raw ingredients...”

Chef Ernest looked around at his choices.

Pity he was so pissed that the sound of heels against the hallway tiles.

***

Saccharin face-planted against the floor, the cocoadile skittering away. “My nose!” He reached up towards his sticky face to feel the damage. “Oh, wait,” He giggled, “I have no nose!”

Matvey jumped and stopped the cocoadile in place. He unlatched himself and sent each of his individual portions to contain the beast in a circle.

“There.” Matvey smirked, “Now I shall be showing all of you how it is being done!” Three of the Matryochik's smaller portions lunged at the cocoadile. It snarls, lashing out at them with its tail. They skid over the floor, Matvey rushing after them to prevent any cracking.

'Maybe we should just take the 'F' on this one?' Silas signed.

Susannah frowned and folded her arms. “Damn it, we ain't never going to hear the end of this though!”

When the doors clicked open and swung inward, everyone braced for the worst.

“I can't get another 'F'!!” One guy shouted. He whipped his head from left to right before jumping out the nearest window.

The footsteps were much lighter than the thunderous impacts that everyone was used to.

Slow.

Sweet.

Seductive like caramel over a crisp apple.

The same toasted hints of vanilla and lightly burnt sugar followed the newcomer where they walked into the room.

Dressed in a burnt amber tuxedo jumpsuit, with golden hair that was gelled down tight and curled down the side of their face, they continued into the room until Silas tried to stop them.

'Wait, you shouldn't get too close to that thing!'

But the stranger kept up their easy stroll until they stood in front of the cocoadile. Oh, the writer of this tale will apologize, until they took a knee in front of the cocoadile.

“I can't watch this!” One of the other students groaned and shielded her eyes.

The cocoadile clicks its jaws and sniffs the air.

It shook its head and rushed into the stranger's arms. It's tail wagged like a puppy who had found their long way home.

“Paint me red and put in me in shortcake...” Susannah rubbed at her eyes to make sure she was seeing what she was.

Silas knew that he was missing out on something. Years of being secluded away from everything would do that, but everyone else in the room seemed to know who this person was just from the smell of creamy caramel that filling the room.

“You poor, poor thing...” Said a smoky, sultry voice that drenched your nerves in thick, syrupy drops. “Scared bitter by all of these inexperienced eyes and hands.”

The figure, the newcomer, the stranger. Their face had that soft curve to a pointed chin and long fanning eyelashes.

So. Female then.

She ran golden nails over the cocoadile's belly until it rolled over. It's tail still wagged from side to side, simple running creeping into scratching. The scratching went deep, digging and scraping away pieces of the cocoadile's rich flesh.

It would hiss when she forced her nails into its belly, molten chocolate seeping out between her fingers. She dug in further; searching, hunting.

Silas flinched at a smack to his shoulder. It was Susannah, whispering to him in harsh tones, “Boy, do you not know who that is?!”

'No. She looks like some kind of model?'

The door swung open. It cracked against the wall before Chef stomped in.

“Where's the damn cocoadile...” He looked up, trailed off, and the stark anger that was his trademark lessened.

To a certain degree.

“Cara Mellice.” Said Chef.

'W-wait!!' Silas signed in a panic, 'The Cara Mellice. The master of everything sweet and all things baked? THAT Cara Mellice?!'

Truth be told, he hadn't seen anything of Cara Mellice's prestige until he had left home and started studying at Keebalah Tech. The textbooks and magazines for his courses had notable examples of what students were to strive for. Cara Mellice's masterful constructions of confection and sugar were like heirloom artifacts that would have been better off in the world's finest museums.

Cara Mellice stood to her feet with the cocoadile's stiffening corpse in her hands.

“Hello my big, strong elf.” She smirked up at him before dropping the mess of raw cocoa into his hands. “You're here just in time.” she added what she had harvested from the creature's belly: buttery pieces and slivers of dark chocolate, white chocolate, and most revered couverture.

“To your seats!” Chef ordered his students. Cara Mellice waited until the last of the chairs had scratched over the floor.

That was when the caramel arrived.

One student yelped, lifting their feet off of the floor and tucking them underneath themselves.

“I would follow their example.” Cara Mellice sighed, her voice lowering and her frame gaining a small bit of height. “True Caramel is not to be touched by unworthy hands or extremities.”

“What do ya even want me ta make?” Chef asked as Cara Mellice strolled to the center of the classroom.

“I don't know...” Cara Mellice chuckled. She lifted long fingers and swung them upwards.

A surge of caramel climbed and built itself upward. It took the long, curved form of a chaise-lounge. It crackled over into a glassy finish.

Cara Mellice took a seat before looking up with a visage that was distinctly male. “I'm not sure if you're up to the task, my big, strong elf.”

Though everyone in the room felt their eyes widen and their chests do the quivering dance of shock, Saccharin the Gummy Fiend tilted his head.

“I thought that me and my brethren were the only ones to master gender so completely.”

The now-male Cara Mellice chuckled once more, leaning back in his seat.

“I would like for all of you to consider the nature of sugar. Of anything sweet, really. It can be soft. Sweet. Velveteen on your lips and sin down your throat.” He looks to Chef. “But, with the right heat and pressure and additions, it can be spicy. Bitter. Toasty.”

He flipped onto his stomach, looking to Chef with a molten gaze. “Sunset Baked Siberia.”

“Ya cheeky little...” Chef didn't finish with words but, rather, a shake of his head.

'Baked Siberia...' Silas asked, 'I know Baked Alaska, but I've never even heard of--'

“Because you are being naive of knowledge and ignorant of skill.” Matvey scoffed, closing his latch when the last of his inner dolls came back. “Baked Siberia is being reserved for only the most skilled hands the world over.”

Saccharin agreed, plopping his head on top of Matvey's and completely ignoring the Matryochik's growing ire. “Only three chefs in my home country have even attempted it!”

Silas let the information settle over his tongue. He turned to Susannah, about to sign, 'Guess it's good that Cara Mellice came. Chef's attention is in other places.'

His eyes watched Susannah's hands trembling as they wrung each other. Her eyes had lost some of her Southern playfulness though they kept focus on Cara Mellice.

Chef slammed a foot against the floor, the caramel there scarcely sluicing out of the way before he did. Upon the main counter fell several mixing bowls, a crate of fruit (mangoes and tangerines, mostly), and all the pots and extracts a baker would need.

He walked to the counter, the caramel parting for him, and got right to work.

Rich cream was splashed into a bowl with eggs, salt, and quite a bit of sugar. A flick of a switch a plate of ice rose out of the counter to which the bowl was set on top of with a mixer following that.

When that was set to slowly churning, Chef grabbed a new bowl. Into it went flower-based flour, tangerine juice, sliced pieces of mango, butter, and...

Chef held a cup out next to himself. The now-female Cara Mellice snapped his fingers. A sluice of the caramel surged up from the floor and into Chef's cup before he slowly folds it into the ingredients placed into the bowl.

***

Chef works like a well-oiled machination to a rhythm of skill and allure. Amazingly enough, the only sugar he had used to craft the cake base. The ice cream. The clouds of meringue being heaped on top; sculpted into two mountains on their hills of sweet frozen cream...

Had been Cara Mellice's caramel...

All of this resting upon a plateau of baked delight.

As long as the process had taken, though without magic the process surely would have taken days, the students sat, entranced, as Chef worked. His position as their teacher was well-earned.

When the meringue had set, Chef whipped open a drawer and got a bottle the size of a man's finger. Inside the small fluke of glass was a writhing sliver of violet flame. “Elder Dragonsbreath.” Someone whistled.

“Chef's really going all out.”

All he did was pull open the sealing cork the smallest fracti –

The room was showered in purple light. A deep bellow surged up from all corners of the kitchen.

Just as fast as it had surged, it was gone. Leaving in its place the golden domes of the Sunset Baked Alaska.

Cara Mellice sat up. He dismissed the caramel away from the floor so Chef could set the glace giant on the counter closest too him.

It was already a beauty for the students to behold: a malted mountainside resting upon a platter.

“Lovely even color to the meringue.” Cara Mellice said, their feminine lilt even as they jumped into professional tone and circumstance. “No sinking. The meringue appears to be mixed--”

The then-male Cara Mellice slammed their foot against the counter, throwing everyone for a loop. One girl in particular was grateful that the caramel was gone since she hit the floor with her face.

Even with the strong impact, the Sunset Baked Siberia stayed still. “Well.” Cara Mellice smirked. They stepped back. “How about a cross-section test?”

Chef groused something under his breath. He plucked a large knife from the counter. He picked it up. He turned it onto its side: Cara Mellice's face being split down the middle.

He forced it down through the Baked Siberia. Nothing moved. No one stirred. The Siberia clung tight to the blade, even as Chef pulled back. But he tossed the knife aside, took each division of the dessert, spread them apart...

Oh. A feat befitting even the embodiment of saccharine that stood in front of him.

Some students fell over themselves to get a closer look. And why wouldn't they? The sun broke through clouds of white, of pink. The toasted cover provided by the meringue was even, the froth beneath it white and foamy until the ice cream came into the picture with random peeks of vibrant citrus shades. The cake base was dense and the aroma from the whole piece was mouthwatering.

“Well?” Chef huffed out, averting his gaze when Cara Mellice looked to him once more.

“Well.” Cara Mellice smirked up at him.

Chef growled and lifted a fork. He cut into the dessert and lifted a hefty piece to Cara Mellice's then-female face. Over full, shiny lips; past perfectly pink gums...

The sound that left Cara Mellice's throat were quiet but nonetheless torturous for everyone involved. Cara Mellice snatched the fork away from Chef's hand and twirled it between their fingers. “What a perfectly delightful combination of tropical flavors, creamy textures, and the ending note of bittersweet to bring things together. All of you,” They addressed the students in the room, “Some of you may find yourselves overwhelmed. That your big, strong teacher is far too extreme in his approaches and lessons.”

Cara Mellice chuckled. “He's not being hard enough.”

What?

WHAT?!

This guy made it a habit to shout down and throw out and insult his students in the name of education and it still wasn't enough?!

Chef had decided on a silent option. He cut the remaining Sunset Baked Siberia into thin slices, enough for the students in the class and himself. All while Cara Mellice spoke, “To truly be a master of baking and confectionery is to be an acolyte to all things sweet. Even some of the masters from your various walks of life have yet to garner my full blessings. But Chef here has.”

Cara Mellice crossed their legs.

Uncrossed them.

And crossed them again.

“Oh, all the ways he has...”

“Eat this!” Chef snapped at his students as he set a plate of the dessert in front of all of the ones who remained. “And don't just stuff your damn faces, study the compliments and contrasts between the elements within!”

Cara Mellice pouted. They hadn't finished speaking yet but, hey, Chef did have to go back to actually working, they supposed.

Silas took a bite and had to take a seat. The taste was overwhelming. Was it Chef's skill? The ingredients? The bond he had with Cara Mellice? Whatever it was, Silas had to have another bite. He looked to Susannah. She was eating with a lot less gusto than their classmates. 'Susannah.' He signed before remembering himself and touching her shoulder.

She flinched away. Silas didn't pursue.

***

The moment, down to the second that class ended with homework to work on one portion of the Sunset Baked Siberia, Susannah rushed out of class. 'Susannah!' Silas slithered right after her. She made a beeline for the women's restroom and, once the door was shut, Silas had to stop.

What had he done? Why was she freaking out like this?

***

Susannah pressed her fingertips, hands shaking, against the mirror.

She was...

Yes.

This is who she was now.

No. That made it sound like she was forced into this.

This is who she wanted to be now.

It hadn't been easy; hadn't been a whim and a chuckle.

Why did Cara Mellice have to be so flippant about it?

It was hard.

She had worked so hard for this.

They treated it like a wink and a click!

No.

Stop.

Susannah pulled her hand back. Into the pocket of her uniform it went and came back with her favorite tube of lipstick (Succubus Milk Brand; 'Street-Walking Stiletto')...

And a pill case.

Susannah tossed one of the pills under her tongue to let it dissolve. The lipstick was swiped over her lips, the brilliant sanguine shade spreading evenly and perfectly.

When the pill dissolved completely, she felt the trembles slow down. Her hands weren't shaking anymore. “Okay.” She nodded at her reflection. “Okay. That's the bombshell the boys go crazy over! Let's go!” She strutted out the bathroom and immediately grabbed Silas by the arm. “Boy, there you are! Almost thought you left me!”

'I wouldn't think about it!' Silas quickly signed out with one hand. 'What about you? Are you okay?'

“You worry too damn much!” Susannah rolled her eyes, “Come on! I'm hungry and you promised me food, honey.”

'I did?' Silas blinked, his signing slow. Susannah pouted at him. She pressed right up against him, breasts flush against his bicep. “Didn't ya?”

Silas's scales shot from diamonds to circles. He flushed crimson and his eyes nearly rolled up into his head from the close contact and husky tone. 'YES! Yes I did! Let's go!'

 

This is who she wanted to be now.

***

The scent of caramel would stick to everything for at least three days. No matter what room in the house in the trees, the condo really, they did this, the sweet scent of toasted sugar and cream would hold fast to the entire structure and everything within.

Though the thought was in mind, Chef couldn't worry on it. Not as slender fingers capped in golden nails ran down the back of his head and curled over his pointed ears.

A low hiss pulled into a moan, breathy and soft, when he dug deeper into the honeypot between Cara Mellice's legs.

“My big, strong elf...” Cara Mellice licked those full lips. Hooded eyes slid down. “Where is all of your rash bravado? Your appetite is usually more voracious than this...”

Chef kept Cara Mellice's legs open via his hands on their thighs. The heated petals before him, slick dripping out from the flushed opening, did far too much to draw him in.

“I need to cut down on the sweets.” Chef insisted, though it was weak.

Cara Mellice had kept their dress blouse on to contrast with their exposed lower half. They burst out into laughter. “Oh, Ernest... Don't play games now. Your sweet-tooth knows no bounds; we both know this.”

Chef

Shifting forward, Chef licked his tongue around the swollen bundle nestled in the slick folds.

Cara Mellice's thighs tightened around his head. The trembling muscles told him, firmly: no escaping until he was done.

Fine.

He was a bear with spring honeycomb: feasting upon Cara Mellice's pussy with the vigor of a starving beast. Cara Mellice's wetness clung fast to his face, dripping down his beard.

“Ernest...” Cara Mellice tossed their head back, holding tight for the ride that the elf was surely going to take him on. Chef shifted once more, his tongue digging deep into Cara Mellice's sex; his nose breathing hot and heavy onto their clit.

“Nngh...” Cara Mellice rocked their hips into Chef's advances. “Just like... that... A bit more to the--”

Another shift: Chef's tongue rubbing against that

One

Spot.

“Yes!” Cara Mellice's hips bucked up, wanting Chef to stay in that spot, in that position. The muscles in their stomach tightened, but Chef didn't slow down or let go.

The sugary deity ground against the elf's face, riding out their molten, delirious climax. Their liquid passion sprayed from their quivering heat all over Chef's face and into his hungry maw.

He finally moved back when Cara Mellice whimpered from too much.

Chef's face was drenched with the sap-like remnants of Cara Mellice's release. He licked his lips but didn't clean anything else away.

“Ya done?”

“Mm...” Cara Mellice rolled over onto their side, still shuddering. “Oh, I love you... My perfect acolyte...”

Chef rolled his eyes. It was then that he wiped the sticky mess from his beard and face. “S'ppose that's all I'm good for to ya.”

Cara Mellice snapped out of their post-coital daze. They frowned.

“You do know that you're special, right?”

Chef didn't respond.

Not even when the weight of the room shifted and the then-male Cara Mellice knelt down in front of him.

“In all my millennia in this world, I've only had three or four acolytes, Ernest.”

Cara Mellice eased Chef's zipper down, slipping their hand into it.

“And you're the only one,” Cara Mellice whispered, taking in the flinch that they got when they began stroking the fat piece of flesh within, “That I've given a son.”

The sweet scent filling his nose and the cloying taste in his mouth were dulling his senses. Damn it, they always did this. Why was he such a fucking pig?

…

Forget it.

Why turn down a blowjob?


	34. The Guardian of Flames

* * *

 

 

“DISMISSED!”

“Sir!” Izumi, Rebekah, and Guang saluted to Commissioner Cruikshank before the Kelpie jumped into his pond to retire.

The triad exhaled in relief, Rebekah's scales relaxing, Izumi's wings drooping, and Guang swooping down to the second floor of DFPD to get to his locker.

“Someone's excited for something...” Rebekah said as she prowled into the locker rooms that everyone who worked for DFPD shared. Guang pricked open the lock on his unit and revealed a bouquet of fiery red and scorching orange blooms. They trembled with embers flaking to the ground, Rebekah smacking the phoenix in the back with her tail, “Or is it excitement for  _someone_?”

“I don't have a  _clue_  what you're talking about.” Guang grabbed the bouquet in his talons and plucked into the air. “Are we flocking together tomorrow morning?”

“I can't see any reason to do otherwise.” Izumi said, retrieving his saddlebag from his locker. “Guang.”

“Yeah?”

Izumi regarded the phoenix with a stern but cautious glance. “Don't overwhelm her.”

“Still have no idea what you're talking about!” Guang trilled out. He beat his fiery wings and peeled out of the station.

He had a date in the District of Fire.

***

The great Ignis Volcano belched out thick clouds of ash and smoke hot enough to sear a man to bone. The buildings in Ignis Fanis reached up into the skies, half of them plastered in some sort of glowing advertisement or sigil for luck and good tidings.

Some of the smaller buildings, though 'small' was only relative, were capped in great domes spun from metric tons of glass; dyed all conceivable hues from God's rainbow.

Guang carried himself through the familiar, smokey skies of Ignis Fanis. He passed by a building half-covered in a moving ad for Dragon's Blood Energy Elixir (the mascot being a busty drake-girl with an emblazoned expression). Dipping down, he swept down to keep speed with the copper, eastern-in-flare Ignin Breaker trolley: the one district-exclusive route in Dama Fristad.

He just needed to ride its tailwinds until he got to his destination... Oh. Hey.

_There it was_.

Checking on his bouquet of flowers, Guang beat his wings and broke away in favor of the largest bathhouse in Ignis Fanis. Which was  _mostly_  a truth.

Not its size, but the fact that it was only  _half_  a bathhouse. The upper half was the residence, office, and meeting-space of Ignis Fanis's Guardian.

Guang flapped on in.

He had to enter through the main entrance and, no sooner had his talons touched the tiled floors did every feather on his body poof up and turn the phoenix into a veritable orb of fluff.

“Damn it...” Guang shook himself and grabbed the bouquet into his beak. When his feathers slicked back down, burning bright, he walked through the steamy halls of the bathhouse. He passed businessmen discussing deals in hot tubs, smugglers discussing the latest exploitable trends of Dama Fristad's young folk, several tubs reserved by impassioned couples, and even some... Less than  _legal_  paid rendezvous.

However, he didn't even stop once to investigate notable leads. He quickly walked up one flight of stairs.

Then he hopped into an elevator.

He hopped out of it when it went to its highest floor and flitted into a second.

His was as a repetitive path. But, when he looked down to the flowers in his beak, he knew it would all be worth it.

***

The final elevator which stood as the great divide between bathhouse and guardian's haven dinged as it slowly opened its gold, ruby-encrusted gates.

Guang walked into the hall and started down the hall. It was as if he stepped into an experimental fusion of old Japan and global aesthetic. He walked past walls of paper supported by ebony beams. Those were dotted by the occasional painted scroll depicting some matter of kitsune, or fox-spirit.

There was one with a sharp grin, grey belly, and red tipped ears.

There was the gigantic one who stood poised; her nine flaming tails ready to fight and her emerald eyes blazing behind crescent frames.

And the third... Was the creature he was coming to see today.

Guang stopped in front of a large sliding door painted in minimalist flames that stood stark against the paper and beams. On either side, though, stood what seemed to be a woman from their dainty feet up to their short happi kimono. It wasn't until one looked up to their faces and saw a distinct lack of them.

Noppera-Bo; the faceless spirits.

“You are back again.” One of them said, the other adding,

“Your perseverance is admirable.”

They turned to one another, sharing something beyond a look. Turning back, the first asking, “Shall we let Hotaru-hime know that you are here?”

“Now, we don't have to do that!” Guang reassured the two Noppera-Bo, “The tool of a  _real_  romantic is surprise.”

The two Noppera-Bo looked to each other again, giggling at a joke shared only between them. They did let the doors open, however, Guang stepping inside. The doors quickly slid shut behind him and he took in the familiar setting of ebony furniture and white carpeting. The light-bulbs were sunset against the ink-painting that the aesthetic of the office provided.

Vermilion paws tapped at a laptop in a frenzy. She was one of the few Guardians of Dama Fristad who embraced human-based technology and,  _heavens_ , how it made life easier.

Her own nine tails: covered in thick fur that darkened towards the tips, swayed behind her. They jostled and urged the balls of blue spiritual that faded in and out of existence near them. Even as Guang walked further and further into the office, the creature's wide, brown eyes never left the laptop screen. Two of her tails came down. One plucked her owl round glasses off of her muzzle while the other wiped them clean. They were gently eased into place before the tails went back on their swishing, swaying way.

Guang walked to the side of the Kitsune's desk. Hotaru, the Guardian of Ignis Fanis, district of fire, didn't even twitch her ears to acknowledge the presence in the room.

Population growths.

Population declines.

Traffic.

Steam quality.

Coal output.

Temperature...

Temperature...

> **“Temperature!”**

Hotaru yelped at the slight deviation in the data on her screen. The kitsune jumped over her desk and rushed to the side of the room where a hanging-chime phone rested upon a small pedestal. A rotary phone was dialed via numbers being spun on a wheel in order, correct? So a hanging-chime phone was dialed via someone hitting the corresponding numbered chimes in order. Simple. Hotaru tugged her sleeves back with her teeth. She tapped out the needed number, waiting as the notes held in the air. 

> **“Yes? Hello?!”**  

She spoke into the receiver, 

> **“The temperatures of the water reserves are dipping … By how much?!”**

Guang was spun around on his talons by Hotaru rushing to her desk and then rushing away.

> **“By three whole degrees!”**  

Hotaru yipped, 

> **“If the water gets too low, then the steam won't form! If the steam doesn't form, then the magma barriers will fall! This is all going to be a disaster!”**  

The Kitsune fell to the ground, covering her face in her paws. 

> **“The other Guardians will have to come and they'll never see me as their equal..!!”**

Something was said on the other line.

> **“Oh?”**  

Hotaru listened, 

> **“Oh, so... Just a minor variance? Okay... I'll check.”**  

Two of Hotaru's tails brought the chimes to a halt and she padded over to her laptop. A quick look-through and, sure enough, she was able to take a deep breath of relief. 

> **“O-okay. Thank goodness.”**

“Hey...” Guang tried speaking up but Hotaru rushed back to her laptop and sunk into the actions of reading, typing, responding. Her tails followed their own devices behind her. One of them reached out to the tea set nearby and poured out a steaming cup that smelled of spice and lavender.

Guang felt his shoulders dip a bit when he noticed the full platter of cakes and cookies. Hotaru had probably worked through breakfast and lunch again.

> **“Mm?”**  

Hotaru didn't look away from the screen when she felt something warm at her lips. She opened her mouth a bit, sipping at the tea in absent-intentioned motions.

The phoenix in the room really could have watched the kitsune all day long. But he would have liked a  _little_  attention before he left, at least.

He walked closer to the desk. He noticed something to the side and even though it made him want to rush out and toss out the flowers in his beak, Guang went on.

“Brought you a gift~!”

He tossed the flowers next to Hotaru's laptop,  _finally_  dragging away her attention.

> **“Wh-- Inspector Ruan?!”**  

She eased her laptop away, just a bit. 

> **“When did you get in here?”**

“ _I've been in here for half an hour_  – Anyway!” Guang shifted the flow of conversation, “I've got reservations at that spicy noodle place on Cauldron Drive.”

Hotaru blinked at him.

Guang waggled a fiery eyebrow. “Ah?”

Hotaru tilted her head, 

> **“I don't get it.”**

“For heaven's sake...” Guang let his beak fall smack dab against Hotaru's desk. “I'm asking you  _out..!_ ”

> **“Oh, I don't have time!”**

Guang groaned, “Yeah. I expected that.”

> **“I still have to go check on the Spice Market...”**

“To keep an eye on any smuggling or forgers,” Guang sighed.

> **“In fact!”**  

Hotaru jumped up and rushed to the side of the room that hosted a bookcase full of clipboards, scrolls, and heavy tomes. She grabbed a scroll, she grabbed a quill: each of the items held tight by one of her tails until she dropped them into her traveling satchel. 

> **“I should go on patrol right now while I still have open skies!”**

Guang lifted a wing to shield his eyes from the burst of steam Hotaru brought in upon opening the windows. The flames near her tails burst into larger plumes, matching spools of fire appearing at her ankles.

> **“Have a safe flight home, Inspector Ruan!”**

She bounded out of the office, her thoughts only on checking off the list of duties and responsibilities she had taken with her.

Guang watched her disappear over the skyline before closing the abandoned laptop.

He straightened up the bookcase to make it at least  _seem_  like it had some semblance of alphabetical order.

The curtains needed to be pressed. But, for now, simply tidying them up would do.

He emptied the tea cup Hotaru had abandoned and replaced the tea set so that her tails would know that it hadn't gone too far away.

He was on his way out when he picked up the bouquet of flowers he had brought and then, walking a familiar path, tossed them into the trash can that held the last twenty, decaying bouquets he had brought for Hotaru.

Guang gently closed the office door behind him. He waved to the two Noppera-Bo and walked down the hall. He reached into his breast pocket, pulls out his phone, and presses it to his ear.

“Yeah, hey. It's Ruan Guang. Can you change my...” He sighed. “Yeah. Make it a single. Yeah. Yeah. Just like last month.”


	35. Trade and Barter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a Chapter Warning for Domestic Abuse.

* * *

 

 

_Bing-bong!_

Odysseus groaned, pressing his face into his pillow.

_Bing-bong!_

“Mmck-mmf...” Odysseus snorted, the noise smothered by the fabric.

But, still, his phone went on. Chiming and vibrating, tormenting Odysseus's tired senses until he gnashed his teeth and seized the phone. “Fucking damn it, what the hell is--?!”

He stopped mid-rant when he started reading the messages he had so desperately tried to ignore.

_'Did you forget what day it is?'_

_'Of course you did. Why am I not surprised...'_

_'The elders are on their way. Amaterasu is bringing me and I'm certain that Poseidon is just around the corner.'_

_'We're in front of your building. Please tell me you at least have refreshments.'_

_'And the elders are knocking...'_

“NO!” Odysseus bolted out of bed, barely grabbing a towel to cover his shame on his way out of the door. “Don't open it!” He bellowed out once he saw that Zach was at the door, his door on the knob, “Don't open it, you fucking cocksucker!!”

“Don't do what now?” Zach feigned stupidity, his face impassive, as he did the exact opposite of what Odysseus had ordered. “Whoops.”

Although, when the door opened, Zach examined the situation. First came the red-hooded figures: faces obscured, shoulders weighed down by gold amulets and silver rings.

Then came the priests: silent but clad in blue attempts of Shinto vestment robes.

A spray of salt had Mira, who had just woken up, groaning, “What the hell smells like low-tide?”

He yawned and looked over to see god of the sea currents Poseidon. “Huh.” Mira brought out his laptop to check on his latest round of purchases. “Would have thought you would have smelled like horse-ass, but wonders never cease.”

The next entrant seemed to bring the rays of the sun in with her: all attracted to the great golden plate adorning her back. She was a beauty, though: all pale skin and ebony hair down to the floor.

Even with her radiance and vermilion kimono blazing an obnoxious level of light into the corneas of everyone in the room.

Zach, Mira, and Odysseus slipped some sunglasses on.

Amaterasu looked around until she saw the Minotaur in his lack of dress. Regality melted into a subtle sneer and an upturned nose. “You couldn't even get dressed for this. By my rays, you continue to never to falter to my expectations...”

Odysseus looked at Amaterasu. For a good minute, in fact. “Say wha..?”

“For Olympus's sake, boy...” Poseidon pinched the bridge of his nose, beard sinking with his sigh. “Let's get this over with. You there,” He addressed Zach, “Make refreshments for your distinguished guests!”

Zach looked at the scene. He let his focus return to Poseidon and then back to Odysseus. “Your rent doesn't include catering...” Although... Zach tilted his head: getting a better view of something. “Alright.” He shrugged, walking to the kitchen.

“Whatever you guys are doing, can you ease up on the light-show?” Mira asked before grabbing his controller.

Odysseus had half a mind. And he was about to use it to say something about Zach belonging in the kitchen.

But then

He saw her.

“For fuck's sake..!” He scrubbed his massive hands down his face and snout.

Amaterasu led her in: the body of a young woman but the head of a white cow upon her shoulders with black hair half-up in a bun and half laying down.

***

Despite Odysseus's lack of dress and how the other bovine creature wearing a business suit, they were both directed to sit upon the floor of the main room. The robed figures, silent as dust and revealing just as many secrets, tugged upon their ears and inspected their arms.

Much like they were the livestock they resembled.

Zach was already wanting this clusterfuck of a cattle auction out of his condo. Nevertheless, he set a platter of pastries and sweet tea on the coffee table.

Amaterasu took one. She discretely sniffed at the rich scent of chocolate tempered with the tart bite of raspberry and sweet cream. “I would imagine,” She told Poseidon before taking a bite, “That a few more years of these meetings will finally result in a more... admirable temperament.”

“Agreed.” Poseidon chomped one of the pastries down and washed it down with the tea, “Is her womb still in quality standing?”

“But of course,” Amaterasu lifted a cup of tea to her painted lips, “I have spared no expense in making sure that her maidenhood is intact and that she remains fertile.”

Zach looked to the newcomer in the room, finally identifying her as an Ushi-Onna.

The wince behind her closed eyes didn't escape his line of sight.

Odysseus gnashed his teeth when one of the robed figures tugged on his arm to extend it out and examine his musculature.

“Hmph.” Amaterasu set her cup down, “All that work on his body and he hasn't even bothered to strengthen his mind.”

“Fucking...” Odysseus snatched his arm back just in time for Poseidon to take a long glance at the [Ushi-Onna](https://66.media.tumblr.com/2287ccb968d99d5e86f9c1b9ac81cfbf/tumblr_inline_p6c37lVsQt1rkapbx_1280.jpg).

“I hope she's not planning on working once they start having calves.”

“Of course not.” Amaterasu was quick to answer on behalf of her ward, said ward glaring a hole into the floor.

It was when Amaterasu took another pastry that she finally asked Zach, “What do you call these? They are quite palatable.”

Zach stopped wiping down the kitchen counter and turned so he could answer properly. “Oh. They're a personal recipe. I call them 'Get the Fuck Out's.”

Poseidon blinked at Zach.

Zach said nothing.

Amaterasu blinked at Zach.

To which Zach said, “They're called 'Get the Fuck Out's.”

Amaterasu huffed and stood to her feet. A clap of her hands had the hooded figures stepping away from the two bovines in the room. “Well then. We will be taking our leave since this space is simply... Unsuited for a proper meeting.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Zach asked, picking up a heavy pitcher, “I have some nice 'And Don't Let the Door Hit Your Ass On the Way Out' to wash things down with.”

He didn't get a response from the two deities leaving. But one of the cloaked figures hissed out, “Watch your insolence, boy.”

“There's the door.” Zach insisted, “Right there.”

Soon, yet not soon enough for the stormy atmosphere of the main room, the guests had all left aside from Odysseus's friend.

That was a terrible word to use.

“Fucking embarrassing me...” Odysseus snorted out.

“You knew we were coming today.” She hissed at him.

“Shut the hell up.” Odysseus clenched his fingers together, rage building; anger bubbling.

Her shoulders shook, the muscles near her eyes tensing. “You're making everything worse.”

“Stop your bitching...” Odyssesus's voice grew rougher.

She shook her head. “You're a curse on my life.”

“SHUT UP!” Those remaining in the room watched, their absorption of the scene in slush-like slow before snapping back to full-speed with the smack of Odysseus's fist into the other creature's cheek.

“And this just got a little too 'Domestic Abuse' for me..!” Mira gulped, sinking into his chest and slamming the mouth shut.

Zach immediately stated, voice even, “Odysseus. Stop. What the hell are you doing?”

Unnoticed by the standing parties, the Ushi-Onna stood to her feet. Her cheek was beginning to swell and she glared into Odysseus's back before forcing him to turn around. She drew her fingers back and bricked them into his jaw as a fist.

Zach... was going to step in to defend her until he had seen, well, that.

“Fucking bitch!” Odysseus snatched her hair, pulling her towards himself with his other hand curled tight into another fist. She held her ground, even with the rough hands ripping a few strands out of her scalp.

“Get the hell off of me!” She dug her nails into the meat of his arm. Neither was relenting. Both were in pain. But both were beyond seeing red.

“Enough.”

Odysseus winced, not at the nails in his arm, but from the seizing of his other arm.

The Ushi-Onna stopped in her tracks when one of her arms were seized. “W-what?”

Zach pulled both parties apart, the strength to do so barely betrayed by his body. “You.” He looked to Odysseus, “Go burn off your machismo bullshit already.”

Odysseus's nostrils flared. His eyebrows knitted together until Zach let him go.

“Mind your own business, you faggot piece of shit.” Despite the less-than-needed words, Odysseus stormed off to his room and slammed the door behind himself.

“He really shouldn't have to overcompensate like that, but, okay.” Zach let go of the Ushi-Onna and asked, “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Or... something?”

“No, no.” She shook her head and started smoothing her hair back down. She couldn't let go of what just happened. “What...” She took a good long look at Zach. But she did turn away after a moment: a rushing, like water, starting to make her dizzy.

“What are you?”

Zach blinked. “Usually people start off with 'who are you'? Or 'my name is.'”

What should he cook that night? The lamb might be nice. Shepherd's Pie? There was beef in the fridge but he didn't want to deal with Suraj mourning a cow's death.

“I'm Zach. Basically I'm your friend's landlord.”

The Ushi-Onna narrowed her eyes. “That bastard is not my friend.”

Zach watched her.

He watched her.

He watched her some more.

“Your fiance?”

The Ushi-Onna made an unhappy sound in the back of her throat. She got to her feet and sat back down on the couch.

“I am Musume, by the way. Tell me... How do you find it in yourself to talk back to the gods?” Musume asked, Zach promptly replying,

“I'm only half Japanese and I don't have any blood tied to Greece? Honestly, there are only six or seven figures I see on a deity-basis, and those two were not part of that club. Seriously, what is someone like you doing mixed up with a train-wreck like him?”

Musume couldn't deny that 'train-wreck' was an appropriate beginning in describing this aspect of her life. The idea of having a listening ear was nice, though.

“Surely you've heard the stories.” Musume watched Zach, waiting for an answer and getting none. “Poseidon gave his nephew, the ancient King of Crete, a gorgeous white bull to sacrifice for a bountiful reign as king. Said king didn't want to sacrifice the bull, it being so pristine and beautiful and all, so he tried to trick Poseidon by letting it go and sacrificing another bull.”

“This whole story sounds like it puts the 'U' in 'Hubris'.” Zach said, making himself comfortable on the couch.

“Pretty much, yes.” Musume went on, “As revenge, Poseidon bewitched the king's wife to fall in love with the bull and, after nine months and what I'm just certain was an enlightening night for everyone involved, she gave birth to the first Minotaur.”

“I stand corrected,” said Zach, “It puts the 'I' and 'S' in there as well.”

Musume looked up. Was someone... No, anyway. “The first Minotaur was locked up in the labyrinth of the scholar Daedalus. There he was demeaned as a mindless monster; a means of torture for anyone who King Minos had a grudge against.”

What... was that she was sensing?

“So how far does the fatass fall from his ancestral tree?” Mira had finally decided to open himself up at the chance to hear some fresh dirt and talk some fresh shit.

Musume smirked at that. “He is awfully fat, isn't he? At least in the head. Minotaurs live for a long time. I recall that he's the eighth descendant down from that first Minotaur.”

Mira plopped his head down on his tongue. “So, let me run this straight: Poseidon and Amaterasu want you two to fuck? You're not a Minotaur, though. Seems like both of them don't have too much going on logic-wise.”

Musume laughed behind her hand. Oh, she liked this one. Zach got up to get more food since Mira had squeezed into the conversation. “Purebred Minotaurs can only be born male. But, obviously, that fat-headed bastard doesn't have a white coat. So... Amaterasu came in with the great idea of offering me up in this...” Agitation seeped into her voice, into her hands. “ _Disgusting_  arranged bond. So that Poseidon can get his precious white bulls.”

 

Metal clinked against metal in Odysseus's room with every rise and fall of the weights in his hands. He could still hear her out there.

Why was she still out there?

He snorted out a puff of hot air.

 

“What would Amaterasu get out of an arrangement like this?” Zach asked once he finished handing out rounds of lemonades that may have been of the harder variety. “The Greek Pantheon has never been fond of owing anyone favors. Unless there are apples and horses involved.”

Musume downed half of her glass in an instant. “I think it's a power-move on Amaterasu's behalf. She even does this sort of ego-play with our Princess; it's not fun for anyone.”

Musume lifted her glass to her lips once more.

“ _There you are.”_  She stopped herself in the middle of her drink. She looked up at you.

“ _I've been trying to figure out the weight I felt upon this scene. No, no. Don't say anything.”_

The whole scene, aside from Musume, had slowed to a crawl.  _“Do you not know of the magic of the Ushi-Onna?”_

You shake your head.

“ _We have the power of Foresight: to see that which has yet to be.”_  Musume ran her finger around the rim of the glass.  _“We can also hear the existence of those beyond this plane. So... Someone like...”_

You feel yourself pinned down where you sit: the weight of the elegant creature's eyes keeping you there.

“ _I'm not going to keep you here for long,”_  Musume sighed,  _“I just wanted to ask a question.”_

“ _Are you going to see it through to the end? Trying for that job opportunity? Getting through your classes... Seeing the fate of those of us in this story?”_

Before you can move your head, Musume shakes hers.  _“Don't answer. Or, at least... Not physically.”_  You watch her finish off her drink.  _“I think that I've had enough of Dama Fristad for the day.”_

The scene sped back up to normal and Musume set her empty glass on the table. “Thanks for humoring this miserable meeting.”

Zach looked to the table and then to Musume. “Back to Akatsuki?”

Musume nodded. “Back to Akatsuki. The Dairy Farms don't run themselves.”

Musume strolled to the door and let herself out. The very second she was out of the condo, Odysseus forced his door open. “Is that fucking bitch gone?”

Zach watched Odysseus go to the kitchen, sweat dripping in his wake. “I don't see why you hate her so much.”

“Because you're a dumb faggot.” Odysseus grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge and slammed the door.

Zach picked up the empty glasses once Mira finished with his. “I think,” The mimic began, “That you're salty because she is way out of your league, gilipollas.”

“Bite me.” Odysseus chugged down the juice before crushing the carton onto the counter. “Are you going to clean that?” Zach asked.

“Fuck no.”

“That's what I thought.” He wished that Abelard was home from work already.

***

_The sky had been overcast that day, contrasting the smell of olives on the air._

“ _Now, this is the boy.” Poseidon had said, pushing a toddler of a Minotaur forward. Odysseus frowned and fought against the pushing until a cuff to the back of the head stowed him._

“ _Good, good.” Amaterasu shoved a much younger Musume towards Odysseus. “As per my part of the bargain...”_

_The two bovine creatures looked at one another._

_Then they glared at one another._

_And then Odysseus hocked back, deep in his throat, and spat a fat glob of snot onto Musume's kimono._

_Her eyes went wide as saucers. She gnashed her teeth. All before launching herself into Odysseus and yanking at his hair._

“ _Get off of me!” Odysseus shouted up at her, digging his nails into her arm._

_Even from the very beginning, this forced union had gone as well as milking a bull. Ironic, really._


	36. Snowfall - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holiday Season has arrived in Dama Fristad at LAST. Let's take a look at how everyone is spending it.

* * *

 

 

Two missiles pierced the midnight skies with their deathly wails, abruptly ending with a crash: a column of fire and scalding smoke billowing into the frosted air.  
“Come on now, dearie... Just a small sip.” Paws encased in tan leather gloves gently eased a cup of something sweet and warm against a child's dry, bleeding lips. A rough cough pushed the cup away, the owner of the paws tutting. “No, none of that now...”

  
As weak as the child was, body cold and broken on the floor, they whined out, “Where's my... Mama, where are you?”  
What could she do? Her ears drooped under the brim of her hat. “It's going to be alright,” She reassured the child, even with the cooling body of their mother under the rubble, “Just drink this and you'll be right as rain, dearie. Come on.”

  
Her dark eyes lost some of their shine when she felt how cold the child was getting. Their breathing was shallow and even the whining for their dead mother was weakening.  ** **“Leave them.”****

  
The creature lifted her head at the cold words. She tried to be a being of warmth, an arm to hold for children and ailing mothers everywhere. The Kanga-Mage. Her visage was akin to a giant kangaroo toting a sunhat covered in warming blossoms. Gloves upon her gentle paws, calming bells upon her tail, and a purple cloth in her pouch that held her needed supplies.

  
And, right then, she was looking upon the unyielding face of the Grim Reaper.

  
****“I will not repeat myself, mage.”****

  
“R-right.” The Kanga-Mage eased the lifeless body to the floor. She brought the small hands together over their chest and pressed a small purple bloom in between their fingers. “A gentle trip down the Styx, then. Right?”

  
The Kanga-Mage hopped away just as the Grim Reaper glided over the broken ground. She didn't wait for the sound of a grisly scythe slicing through air. Not while there was the possibility of one child to save during this season.

  
_There!_

The Kanga-Mage hopped over to where a car had been flipped over by the explosions. “Where... where are you?” She looked around the crumpled vehicle until she saw the two bodies in the front: blood everywhere, bone broken and piercing through skin and muscle. She turned to the backseat and wasted no more time. A hop back so she could lift one of her large feet and kick the window in, glass splintering inward.

“Come on.” She reached in, eye twitching at glass digging into her arm. “Come on, then, I --”

She felt something warm and struggling. Gentle as she could and minding the glass, the Kanga-Mage pulled the crying treasure out of the strangled glass and metal.

“There we are!”

They cried, oh how they cried and the Kanga-Mage was so grateful to hear such a sound  
in a hellscape like this. The Kanga-Mage pulled a swaddling cloth from her pouch and wrapped the baby up, nice and warm and snug. A gentle honk pulled her attention to the smoky skies. A swan fluttered their wings to ease their landing. Once stable, they took hold of the babe's cloth and took off into the air.

The Kanga-Mage saw them off. They'd be safer with the Empress. All of them would. Which is what gave her the strength to hop back into the frigid carnage.

***

 

In the city of a thousand beasts and the men who remain civil to them, the times of snow and frost are times of celebration.

  
Thus, in a burg of a myriad of colored cloths and lyrics, many different celebrations and walks of life are present at the same time.

The best line of conduct during this season is to merely wish someone a 'Blessed Snowfall'. That is the way to let another know that your heart is in the right state to

wish them blessings during these times, even though you may not know what worship they walk or how they spend the season.

***

At Fae Rock Boarding Academy, Eirwen was doing a final run-through of the bus. Snowfall meant that the students were going home to their parents for a week. It also meant he would be visiting home for a bit as well.

He shut the hood of the bus and called out to Blitzelle, the small reindeer-deer with the shining red antlers and hooves, “Make sure you don't forget anything --”

He was stopped by a vibration on his hip. Without checking the ID, he answered, “You've reached Eirwen Leadhooves at Fae Rock. How can I help you?”

Masumi, the little moon-bunny with horns, hopped up and handed her teacher a plastic-wrapped box of marshmallows. They had been shaped like rounded bunnies and even dotted with small bits of chocolate.

“Why, _thank you_ Masumi! Oh, these look delicious!” Eirwen turned back to his phone call once Masumi left, “There's nothing to apologize for; these things happen.”

Besame flapped over and adjusted his glasses before handing Eirwen a book. “Mi hermano helped me pick this one out! Hope you like it, Mr. Eirwen!”

“I'm certain that I will, Besame. Thank you!” Eirwen assured the death-bat and then went back to the call. “Not until midnight, huh? Well, it's tricky but I --”

“Presents!”

“Presents!” The tooth-fairy twins Pepper Mint and Winter Mint announced, shoving hastily-wrapped packages up at Eirwen.

“Thanks guys!” Eirwen really did have a handle on accepting gifts from his students. Even when he was on the phone. The twins flew into the bus with their backpacks and suitcases. “I could bring him along with me.”

Klickshe dragged her large rolling suitcase behind her. Eirwen, despite himself, found his eyes following the designer luggage before reminding himself of who the little kobold's parents were. “Here you are, Mr. Eirwen! Happy Snowfall!”

“Oh, and what's this?” Eirwen accepted what appeared to be a handmade Snowfall card. Sugar-scented cardstock, silver glitter upon a dark blue background. The middle of it felt thicker than the rest. A giftcard, perhaps?  
Klickshe's parents were teaching her well.

“Thank you so much, Klickshe!” Eirwen watched the little kobold get on the bus. “I assure you, it's not any trouble. My parents would gladly take another dinner guest.”

“Awoo~!!”

Eirwen rushed to press 'mute' and then looked down to see Clawssie running around him like the excited pup she was. “Let's go, let's go, let's go! My mama and daddy are waiting for me with all the Snowfall food and recordings of mama's matches and PRESENTS!!”

“Clawssie...” Eirwen shook his head. Clawssie rushed onto the bus and Eirwen had to carry her abandoned bag up to her. When she grabbed it, he went back out and resumed his call. “I'll be sure to send you a text with my parents' address, alright? Of course. Have a Blessed Snowfall.”  
~~~~

~~“... She's not coming. Is she?”~~

Eirwen didn't flinch at the sudden quiet voice besides him. He did hate having to do what came next, though. He turned to Juke, the creature under the sheet, and took a knee.

“Your mother got called in for an overnight job. Juke, I'm so sorry.”

Juke didn't meet Eirwen's line of sight.  ~~“It's... okay...”~~

Eirwen's heart clenched. He knew the exact tone of those words; the tone of 'I don't want to be a bother'.

“But!” Eirwen helped the creature under the sheet onto the bus, “I'd love to have you over for Snowfall dinner. My parents would be glad to have you over, too! How does that sound?”

Eirwen looked away for a second, just a second. When he looked back, Juke had put on his seatbelt and had his own simple suitcase next to him.

That was as much of a 'yes' as he was going to get.

Eirwen helped the rest of his students onto the bus (thankfully the giants had come to pick up their son a few days earlier) and after getting a few more tiny parcels shoved into his face, he made sure that Rhubarbara locked up the cabins.

“Alright, guys!” Eirwen buckled his seatbelt, “Let's get you all home for Snowfall, huh?”

The young collection of creatures all cheered and whooped. Especially Blitzelle. The young reindeer-deer could barely control his antlers and hooves, he was so excited.

“My Dad's finally coming home for Snowfall!” He exclaimed, Eirwen adjusting the rearview mirror,

“That's great to hear, Blitzelle.”

“He's missed the last four because of his job and stuff,” Blitzelle continued, “But I'm sure that he's going to make it this time!”

“Constanz!” Heidi tugged her floating sister down and tied her down with the seatbelt. She just wanted them to get back to their Vati in one piece, with their presents to him undamaged. “You need to sit down or else you could get hu--” The little European Wendigo blinked her burning eyes at the sight of a small parcel wrapped in simple paper. “What...” Heidi picked it up. “Is this? Beatrisa, where'd this come from?”

“I don't know!” Beatrisa scribbled in her notebook, “I'm trying to get started on the homework we have for break!”

The two sisters whispered and bickered, neither taking notice on Juke re-buckling himself into his seat.

***

Izumi's weekly reports made their way to the receptionist.

  
“Punctual and organized, per usual.” The receptionist kicked open a cabinet and tossed the forms in. They rapped their fingers over their keyboard, chuckling,

“Spending your Snowfall in the pescetarian way?”

Izumi sighed, “I have to head home and call my parents first. My mother's going to be beside herself about me not making it back to Akatsuki this year.” It didn't help matters that Siklon had prior engagements that day and wouldn't be free until well after sundown.

A folder of papers and notes was set down in front of Guang. The phoenix blinked at them and then looked up. “You're still burning the oil? Even now?”

“But of course.” Abelard held up a book and flipped through several pages. “With everyone heading out early for some reason, I'm finding it so much easier to concentrate.”

“What are you talking about 'some reason'?” Rebekah said, wrapping a scarf around her neck (not that the dragon really needed it), “It's already Sn--”

“No, no.” Guang covered her nuzzle with a heated wing, “Let him figure it out.”

Abelard walked off. “The Dama Fristad canals are areas that could do with more surveillance.” He underlined the location in his book, “At least during the night.”

Abelard wrapped around a corner.

Abelard ran right back. _“IT'S SNOWFALL!”_

 _“HOW DID YOU FORGET?!”_ Rebekah matched him in volume.

Abelard shut the book and rubbed removed his glasses. “Ach, I've been so busy with all of this research. Wait!” He gasped and bolted to the records room to retrieve his belongings. “Mein Honigbienen are coming home for the holiday. My apologies for leaving so early. Gesegnet Schneefallt!”

Rebekah and Guang watched Abelard rush out of DFPD as if the devil himself was on his heels. Izumi pulled out his phone, curious to see if Siklon had tried to contact him in the name of a distraction. “3 seconds.” The Karasu-Tengu hummed. “2...”

“Zur Holle Damit! _I still have to pick up their gifts from Necronia!!_ ”

***

“I need three books of fairy tales!” An older woman shouted, “Two of French origin and one of German!!”

Rory Fontaine gave his sliding ladder a quick push and hopped on. He stopped it at one point to pick up two books and then pushed it to another area before rolling back to the counter.

“'Tales of Roses from the Versailles Court',” He explained two of the books, “And 'Accounts from the Goblin Market'.”

The woman looked at the offerings for a bit. She turned her nose up in the air. “Acceptable.”

No sooner had she paid and demanded that the books be wrapped did a mining-centauress barge over. “I need your best chick-lit book! Something that doesn't have too many pages and gets right down to the nasty!!”

“Of course.” Rory pushed his ladder and climbed on. His entire day had been just this: a flurry of demands and steps in and out of Pecan Pavillion. Rory appreciated the business but he couldn't ignore the cramp in his leg from the constant back and forth and up and down.

He wrapped the books nice and neat in purple paper and tied them in sweet lilac ribbon. As he handed them off, he thought to his own Snowfall parcels that needed to be sent off before the sun set that night. He hated being a bother to the postal services like this, but things had just been so busy.

A small yeti rushed up to the counter and grabbed for the cookie basket with icy fingers. “Mommy! Cookies, cookies!”

“Oh, stop that!” An older yeti came along and took the smaller's hands away, “Those aren't for you, greedy thing!”

“No, no, it's more than alright.” Rory walked over and took two wrapped cookies out of the basket. “Here.”

The small yeti's eyes went wide and they grabbed the offered sweets; tearing into paper and cookie at once.  
Watching them, Rory realized that his own little traveler would probably need a place to stay tonight. He hadn't been by in a week or so, though.

***

Deep in his basement room, Fane fell back into bed and popped his headphones into his ear and earhole. He dialed the volume on his crystal-caller to 'Max' and let lyrics of agony and grief wash over him.

Snowfall, Winter in general, was a time for death. The leaves, the fauna, the wind all danced the waltz of the dying by the time ice overtook the land.

The Grim Reaper was twice as busy during these times. Much to her chagrin due to Akeldama letting the halls of Judgement and Repence fill to bursting before dragging himself away from holiday merriment and doing his duties.

It didn't matter to Fane, though. His mother was out of Dama Fristad and that was the most important thing.

Fane opened his eye and saw topaz eyes sparkling down on him with a sharp smile underneath.

Gahiji looked down at Fane.

Fane gawked at Gahiji.

Gahiji 'boofed' a paw against the phantom's nose. “Honk!”

  
***

In the main room of the condo, Nephubos pulled themselves into a chair and glared into the shiny red labeling of a carton.  
_'_

 _I do not trust you and your thick but still runny consistency – Ah!'_  One of their tentacles knocked the container over and they quickly picked it up before anything could spill. _'I am sorry. Please speak whenever you are ready.'_

“Gahiji, what the _fuck?!_ ” Fane slammed his door open and stormed up the stairs to the main area.

The sphinx hopped along after the phantom. He had a white scarf sprinkled in pearl snowflake buttons wrapped around his neck. “I wanted to see if you would come out with me!”

“The last time I went anywhere with you,” Fane shouted, stepping over the pillow that Mira had tossed to trip him, “We almost got our asses handed to us by some fucking hunters! Why don't you bother Silveste?!”

Gahiji pouted and plopped down on his rump.

“He went out courting today.”

 _“On Snowfall Eve?!”_ The phantom shrieked.

Mira's tongue dug around into a back of cheese-dusted chips and swallowed them down into the fleshy abyss around his waist. “Keep it down, you're ruining the flow of the room..!”

Fane wasn't dislodged. “Take Odysseus for all I care!”

Gahiji sighed. “Well...”

***

  
A pair of nice hips dipped low to a polished floor, sugar-sweet wings fanning out behind her.

Only during the Snowfall season could one have the chance to see Sugar Plum Fairy Stripper Troupe do their thing.

One of the chubbier ones (with the weight in all of the right places) sucked on a piece of candy cane and strolled around the tables and chairs full of drunk and rowdy spectators.

The Sugar Plum Fairies... Be one male or female, they had sugary pink hair swirled upon their heads. Their skin shimmered along their arms and collarbones; sugar ever present upon their skin.

The one on stage there and then removed her bra, the small article of clothing sewn from ice and powdered sugar, revealing the bouncing curves that the audience was clamoring for.

She fell upon her hands and knees. She was an evening wildcat: prowling towards her prey of the night.

“SHOW US YOUR PUSSY!!” Odysseus, already down for eight tankards of beer, shouted up at the fairy. When another one strolled by with a tray of beer and nuts, he grabbed the tray and shoved them out of the way to save his view.

***

“He said he...” Gahiji thought about it, “'Wanted to give the Sugar Plum Fairies some real nuts to suck on'?”

The door swung inward, stopping Fane from opening his mouth again.

“Ah, good!” Abelard looked around to see who was still in the condo. “Young ones--”

“I'm older than you by at least a century, cabron...” Mira hummed, his chest's tongue slurping up more chips.

“I need to ask a small favor.” Abelard continued on, ignoring the Mimic. “My girls are due here any hour now for Snowfall break and I need to go pick up the presents I ordered for them three months ago in Necronia.” He took a second to check his phone for the time and his wallet for his receipts. “Could you all just watch them for me until I get back? Bitte?”

“Yeah. Nah.” Mira held out his phone, “I have three gacha games on my phone that are all running special events for the holiday season. If I maximize my consideration time and take that into account all of the courtesy-currency I've been grinding throughout the year, I should be getting the rarest of rolls in all three. Worst-case scenario,” He set an alarm, “I get enough XP to level my mains up to S-Tier.”

All of the admittedly calm jargon whooshed right over and under their heads. It was Gahiji who asked,

“Couldn't you just... Buy them?”

Mira rolled both of his eyes. “You fucking whale... Anyway, fuckers, I'm staying right here.”

Abelard looked to Gahiji and Fane. Gahiji had brought his crystal-recaller (the tablet version of the crystal-callers) and swiped left at something.

“Sorry Abelard...” Gahiji deflated a bit, “I have some errands to run today, too. Maybe Fane --”

“Fuck. That. Noise...” Fane hissed, “If it's between tagging behind you and watching some spazz kids, I'll take my chances outside.”

“For heaven's sake...” Abelard rubbed at his temples. “Fine, just... Fine.” He had to think about this. Zach was off only Gott knew where, Gahiji and Fane were heading out, Mira was going to be as dependable as hemorrhoids, even if Odysseus was here he wouldn't dare to leave his daughters in that vulgar idiot's presence.  
“Silveste is out as well... And Silas is visiting his family.” He sighed. Hell, the unicorn had asked him about decent courting approaches the night before. “Suraj?”  
Mira's tongue, slick and gaining an orange stain, handed over a simple Snowfall card. It had a lone snowflake on top of a blue background.  
Abelard opened it and read, “'Happy Dipivali! It is far too cold for someone born in India. I'm going to hang out in Ignis Fanis until the weather evens out'? Really? But this condo has perfectly fine heating!”

There was a creak and a rumble from beneath the condo before the heater chugged to a painful stop. “Fane!”

“Don't look at me, you old bastard.” Fane folded his arms and rolled his eye. “It's been doing that since this morning.”

That also explained Zach's absence. Abelard couldn't imagine the boy sneaking off to some Snowfall party.

Not... that Abelard would have had any problem with him doing such a thing! Zach was a young man: he needed to hang out people and nonhumans his own age.

His... own age.

Abelard shook his head. He needed to get the hell out of here and scrounge up some gifts for his daughters before they came home. But who could watch...  
There was a familiar squishing of tentacles in the kitchen.

“Nephubos!”

Nephubos, who had been trying to get the carton of 'Egged-Nog' to impart upon them its secrets, looked up.  _'Was this one's name being called?'_

***

Faaria.

Faaria.

Faaria...

She had been pouring away over eighteen different housing proposals and relocations. This time of year was a bit tricky. Not hard, mind you, just... tricky. It was just a matter of making sure that everyone had a place to be and a bed to call their own.

Homelessness didn't exist in Dama Fristad, especially not during Snowfall.

Faaria saved her work. Her chair rumbled with the force of her protesting stomach. “Honestly?” She chastised her body, “We have been in reflecting for a month and you can't last six more hours?!”

Faaria did celebrate Snowfall and all that it encompassed, but she also observed her family's ancestral cultures and strands of faith. Mawlid al-Nabi: the Prophet's Birthday. The month leading into it was a time for reflecting and subtle celebrations until that final sunset arrived.

Then Faaria could resume her rightful slot as 'life of the party'.

“Thank Allah that I bought Snowfall parcels three months ago.” She went back to work with a sigh.

The moment that Tsukuyomi brought night to the sky, she was heading straight to her favorite restaurant in Ignis Fanis. “I've more than earned it.”

***

Walking along Milky Way Drive, one of CenterPointe's larger main roads, saw strands of ice and glass spun through the buildings and around all of the street-lights.  
“It's all so pretty.” Gahiji bounced along, Fane grumbling all the way through. He forced his hands into his pockets and tried to bury himself into his hoodie.

“This sucks. And its cold. And I'm fucking bored. This is such normie bullshit...”

Gahiji stopped bouncing at a vibration from his saddlebag. Oh, his crystal-recaller.

He swiped left on something and then shoved it back inside.

“But Fane~!” Gahiji flicked his tail, “There's a whole bunch of fun stuff to do around Snowfall! And we can buy presents!”

Fane rolled his eye and walked on ahead. He stopped at the crosswalk. His bones were freezing, chilled by the seasonal flurry of ice. His own heart being about as inviting as frozen peas didn't help either.

The light was taking way too damn long to change, the fuck...

His core was pierced by the squealing cry of a dying beast of burden. It was far too ghastly to be something of the living world.

Wait.

No.

_No..._

The black carriage with the wheels of blue dragon's bones was towed around by eight horses built up from the skeletons of beast gone by.

“Oh God..!” Fane groaned, scrubbing down his face with his decaying hand.

“Hm?” Gahiji peeked in on his side of the screen. “What's up?”

“Fane!” Erysichthon stepped out of his carriage. The skeletal steeds knickered when their giant master disembarked in favor of addressing his teeny, tiny heir. “You're out and about and --” Dama Fristad's Lich looked at Gahiji and his eyes erupted into joyous fire. “Making friends! Good on you, kiddo!”

“Damn it, dad, that's not...”

“Right, right.” Erysichthon gave a nervous chuckle, “You're more like homies--”

“Ugh..!” Fane scoffed.

“Friendzillas--”

“Dad..!”

“He's your kemosabe!”

“Every time you talk,” Fane groused, “You make me wish that I had organs so I could die from internal bleeding.”

“Hi!” Gahiji bounced up and down, “I'm He Who Convenes with the Gods. But all my friends call me Gahiji so you can too!”

Fane looked upon the growing scene of amicability and could only groan and flip his hair in that way that angsty teens do. “I should have just gone with fucking Silveste.”

***

A tower of gold and white teddy bears, all boasting a snowflake-halo necklace for the season, reached high to the ceiling of a small gift shop. A few humans and nonhumans were mulling about as holiday music droned in the background.

The employee responsible for the display pulled his hair back and up into a bun as he admired his work.

“Now next we have the--”

“Greetings and other words of merriment for the Celebrations of Snowfall!”

“What the Christ?!” The employee fell back on his ass. He looked up and saw the culprit: a beyond-fancy unicorn looking down at him with a pointed hoof held up against his chest.

“I am the first son of the reigning King Alabastras and Queen Fuschiabolt Winterdust: Prince Silveste Winterdust and I am initiating the process of courting you as my bridegroom in expectation...”

The employee got to his feet, made sure that Silveste was still talking...

Took a step back, made sure that Silveste was still talking...

“... And, as such,” Silveste went on, “The process will be able to move forward in continuation along the desired conclu--” Silveste opened his eyes at the sound of a door slamming shut, a car engine roaring to life, and tires peeling out.

Blancher and Bruner, who had been purchasing Snowfall parcels to send back to their wives, didn't say anything as Silveste bemoaned his latest miss.

As long-winded as usual.

“This is a most disheartening of resulted chains!” Silveste whinnied in dismay, “That young human was the latest in a fortnight's worth of young masters and mistresses I have approached and they've all been swept away by some sort of prior state of having a duty to attend to..!”

This was hopeless. He had been trying for months now and hadn't even gotten anything as far as a secondary proposal for a date –

And now I, the writer, am following his long-windedness. Just a moment, please.  
… And back to normal.

“I'm going to perish in a state of solitude and longing..!!” Silveste buried his muzzle into his fetlocks, his body trembling with every breath he pulled in and out.

Why wasn't this working? Why?! He was a prince! Princes get married and continue on legacies for those who came before them.

“Perhaps...” He whispered to himself, a fat tear leaving one of his eyes and rolling down his long face, “The promise of love isn't on course for me.”

Someone was touching him. Not with hooves but with... fingers?

“Alright, enough. Come on.” Silveste looked to his right to see someone urging him onto his hooves.

Silveste only allowed the motion eventually due to his curiosity. Why on earth... Who on earth... On who on Mars, for that matter?

Silveste, once he was standing again, turned to his sudden assistant and got a handkerchief held in his line of sight.

“Here.” Their voice was deep. To the naive ear it would have been brushed off as masculine. But to ears that could hear beyond, the depth was tempered by mead and cool spice.

Silveste looked beyond the handkerchief to its owner. They were tall.

Very tall.

And he could tell that lean muscle filled out the forest green suit they were wearing. Their hair was cut short, in a typical boyish style, but their expression was stoic and even. Not as emotionless as Zach's however, there was still subtle flavor in their earthen eyes hidden behind slim, square frames.

Their? No.

_Her._

“Did you...” She said, folding the handkerchief up and gently patting it under Silveste's eyes, “Need help? If you let them dry then they'll make your coat dry and itchy.”

Silveste sniffled, lower lip quibbling. Why was he being like this? He was a prince. Princes don't cry. They set examples! So why was the touch of this woman, who was too tall, too stern, too strong, making him feel like this?

It had to be because of the rejection. That was it.

“Your Majesty.” Blancher and Bruner's hooves clopped against the tile floors of the store. They made it to either side of their prince, though Silveste's attention was taken by the strang, tall woman once more.

“You're too verbose.” She said, retrieving the damp handkerchief. She folded it into an even square and placed it back into her pocket. “It scares your potential suitors away.”

“B-but!” Silveste took a step. “This is what I know! What I've been instructed to follow and learn upon for further interactions!”

The woman shook her head, lenses flashing in the store lighting.

“It's not good enough.”

Silveste was taken aback. Who was this woman to tell him that... Oh, nevermind. “Alright, then.” Silveste waited for Blancher and Bruner to make sure that his mane was back to its splendor and magnificence. “Are you... implying that you could be of assistance to my cause? I can't imagine you take appointments or anything of that collection of natures.”

“Fine.” The woman pulled something out of her back pocket and whipped it over to Bruner.

Silveste dipped his head and Bruner lowered the item, a business card, low enough for him to see it.

“'Lan'?” He read out and lifted his head, “Is that your...”

Lan was gone.

A gust of wind tugged the door open and then closed.

There... had been a woman there just then. Right?

Maybe Silveste should go to a cafe or bakery or something. Get his blood sugar settled and his balance appropriate before heading back to the condo.

***

  
A cluster of snakes slithered and writhed over one another. A rounded, pudgy face glared through a pair of small rounded frames.

Tchiakovsky stood, charming, broad and tall, next to his tiny partner in DJ-ing/roomate. “Have you decided yet?”

“Aiya, don't rush me!” Fa Jiang kicked the incubus in one of his hairy shins with his roller skates. Tchaikovsky faltered away a bit. It didn't hurt at all, but he didn't want to be the one to say it.

One of the snakes of Fa Jiang's hair slithered down to the gorgon's ear and hissed something. “Hmph.” He nodded to the goblin standing at the bakery counter. “Alright. Wrap up some that cheesecake tower and toss in some truffles. Tchaikovsky, you want anything?”

“A slice of Charlotte, maybe?” The incubus quickly caught himself in some perceived slight, “If... that is being alright?”

“Of course it is, erbaiwu...” Despite the brisk insult, Fa Jiang kept a careful eye on the goblin as they boxed the chosen orders.

“Wonder if the boy will even get a chance to eat any of this.” The goblin muttered under his breath.

Fa Jiang paid them, flipped them the bird, and signaled Tchaikovsky to carry everything out.

Fa Jiang skated a few feet ahead, wheels unhindered by the snow and ice. In his eyes, Snowfall was just more cold, more forced amicability – really, all he wanted to do was get back to their apartment. Put on some decent music, instead of all of this holiday crap, and gorge down some sweets.

“Fa Jiang?”

Fa Jiang turned to Tchaikovsky at the call of his name. “What is it?”

The incubus readjusted the packages in his arms. He dragged a hoof through the snow. Finally, he asked, “If it is not being too much of a bother... I would like to try making the Snowfall Noodles this year.”

Fa Jiang groaned. He didn't want to have to entertain the holidays anymore than he needed to. But, still, looking at Tchaikovsky's earnest brow and gentle smile.

“Fine...” Fa Jiang rolled his eyes, “Guess we have to stop for groceries on our way home, then. Good grief, the lines are going to be a nightmare...”

“Spasibo!” Tchaikovsky spread his wings and shifted the packages into one arm, grabbing the largest with his tail. With his other arm he grabbed Fa Jiang and flapped into the air.

“Aiya! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Fa Jiang screeched, the two of them already up above street-light level. “Tchaikovsky~!! Those sweets better not end up squished against your stupid man-boob pecs!!”

 

 


	37. Snowfall - Part 2

* * *

 

 

“Ah~!”

A mouth full of tiny sharp teeth and two big sharp fangs opened up wide. It clamped down onto Silas's arm. Unfortunately, he was still mute; no matter how much pain was hurled his way.

Snowfall for Silas meant coming home for his mother's... flawed attempts at family reunions. And those meant, for at least an hour for each, that Silas would be the one subjecting himself to the tortures of his cousins.

“So my son, the one leading that study-group in Akwukwo Ndu?” One of Silas's aunts started, “He's not able to make it here for Snowfall, but he's been telling me all about his breakthroughs. Says that he's been offered a book-deal, even. Ah...” She took the cup of cider that Silas's mother Charlotte gave her. “But enough on that~ What has little baby Silas been up to? Has he finally learned to talk again~?”

Silas didn't engage. He knew how to talk just fine. It's just everyone else in the house refused to listen to how he did it.

“Oh~!” Charlotte gave her husband a drink. “He's started studying at Keebalah! You know, that avaunt-garde culinary school? Run by Chef Ernest and blessed by the Cara Mellis?”

 

_“Why do you want to leave and study?!” Charlotte screamed, tears in her eyes. Her claws were embedded into Silas's arms: keeping him from slithering out the door. “Don't you know how dangerous it is out there?! Why can't you stay_ _in_ _here? With me?!” Silas knew her eyes were frantic behind him. Blown wide with pupils twined into tight, infuriated slits._

_“I'M ONLY TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!!”_

 

Funny how his deciding to go to school was only seen as a positive when it came to these bragging matches.

Silas rolled his eyes as another one of his cousins climbed on top of his head. “Move horsey!!” They screeched right into his ear. Silas almost missed it when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Silas picked it out of his pocket with the tip of his tail.

Silas blinked down at his phone. Who was texting him? It couldn't be anyone at the condo (though it did have a semblance to Mira's abrasive voice).

His phone vibrated again.

 

Silas jumped straight up. His cousins slipped off of him, whining and hissing when they hit the floor.

“You big meanie!”

“Come back!”

Charlotte had noticed the disruption as well. “Honey?” She watched her son rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind himself. “What has him so hush-hush?”

Inside the bathroom, Silas sat down on the edge of the sand-tub and reread the messages, twice in fact.

He... should have asked what she was doing for the Snowfall break. For being so head-over-tail for her, he really was failing at every window of getting closer to her.

He tapped, 'Hey! Things have been so crazy, how are you doing?'

Silas's finger hovered over 'send' but... He deleted it. That wouldn't do. 'What's up? Nothing much to say, just dealing with family drama, lol.'

That message was deleted too.

He wasn't a 'lol' type of guy. He didn't need to waste her time, though; she was probably at some swanky Snowfall Gala. All red lips, thigh-high slits, and bedroom eyes. She had taken time out of a busy schedule to text him and he didn't have a good response?

Silas tapped again. 'Hi. Sorry for not sending anything before. Didn't know what to say. I...'

He glared at the screen.

'I never know what to say.

How has your break been?

I'm here with my parents and family.

They're driving me INSANE.'

“Silas?” His mother's voice slithered into the bathroom before he could hit 'send'. “Honey, you've been in there for a while~!”

It hadn't even been six minutes.

“Oh, hold on!”

No!

Charlotte opened the door and slithered in. The skeleton-key she had used was slipped into her sweater pocket and she stopped in front of her son. “Is everything alright? You wouldn't...”

Silas slid his phone into his pocket.

“Be trying to leave early or anything silly like that, would you honey?”

'No.' Silas quickly signed, looking to the floor.

Charlotte smiled. “Good. Now, no more texting. Let's go back to the party.”

Silas followed his mother back to the main room.

How was it that he missed Chef Ernest's yelling and snapping over the sweet, dulcet tones of his mother?

***

“Herr Baumgarten, I'm here with...”

'Hello and welcome!'

Eirwen looked down and saw a tentacle-bleb holding a carton of eggnog to their side like a close friend. 'Please, come in and partake of the egged-nog with us in the name of the, um... 'holeedai'?'

“Hijo de puta!!” Mira screamed at another bad roll before gnashing his teeth and rolling more digital currency.

Eirwen wrapped his arms around the girls and stepped back. “...The girls.”

“Where's Vati?” Heidi looked up at Eirwen with eyes full of worry.

Eirwen didn't even try to be patient; he had a bus full of children waiting to get to their families. He scrolled through the 'Parental Contacts' on his phone. “Hello?” He said, “Herr Baumgarten? I'm here with the girls.”

***

“Scheisse...” Abelard hissed, “Hold on just one moment.”

Abelard was at the counter of a higher-end toy boutique in Necronia. Something about the spirits of deceased mothers had them making the best toys.

“What do you mean my orders aren't here?! I placed them three months ago!!”

The poltergeist manning the register adjusted her sleeves and extended a claw-like hand to her register.

The device erupted in a frenzy of panicked clicks and taps.

_“Unfortunately,”_  Said the poltergeist,  _“The shipment that your daughters' gifts would have been in has yet to arrive.”_

Abelard ripped a groan out from his chest. Steam curled out from between his teeth. “Gott en Himmel, it's Snowfall Eve! How can they be running so late, I – “

Eirwen was probably still on the phone. Abelard pressed the phone back to his ear. “Eirwen, I trust Nephubos with mein honigbienen and give you full permission and authorit – Is that the shipment truck?”

Abelard and the Poltergeist looked out of the window. There was an approaching truck that bore a similar labeling to that of the boutique.

_“Oh.”_  The Poltergeist hummed,  _“I suppose it is--”_

“Eirwen, I have to go!” Abelard shoved the phone in his pocket and rushed outside. “Halt!!”

***

Eirwen listened to the call come to a sudden drop. Alright. How to do this? How to do this? “Heidi, Beatrisa, Constanz.” He knelt down to their level and decided. “Your dad is, um... Getting a few last-minute things ready for Snowfall.”

“He forgot our presents?” Beatrisa gasped, Constanz sinking in the air.

“What? No!” Eirwen lied, knowing that it was a lie because every single-parent that had a child in Fae Rock seemed to be faltering at the moment. “He's just out making sure that you all are going to have a great time on your vacation. So he just needs you three to stay with Nephubos here, alright?”

They all turned to see the tentacle-bleb dipping a tentacle into the eggnog. 'A sticky consistency...'

Heidi folded her slim arms and snorted out a hot puff of air.

“I'm...” Eirwen gave an uneasy laugh, “Sure he won't be more than an hour.”

***

Clawssie barely waited for the bus to stop before she bounded out to where her parents were waiting. They didn't live too extravagantly: their six bedroom-four bathroom villa in the Dark Wood sector of ShimmerGale was enough.

“Mama! Mama! MAMA!” Clawssie jumped up into the furry, muscled arms of her wrestler werewolf mother.

“Heya puppy~!” Clawssie's mother grinned at her with a fang-filled smile. “C'mon, food's getting cold and there are videos that need watching!”

Eirwen waved Clawssie off but was stopped from his return to the bus by Clawssie's human father.

“As always,” He said, handing Eirwen a thick envelope, “Thank you for keeping an eye on her.”

Eirwen gave a shaky chuckle. “Of course, she's a dear. But there's no need for tha--”

“Take. The. Envelope.” Clawssie's father insisted, still smiling.

“W-well, who am I to turn down a gift during this season? Thank you...”

Eirwen got back into the bus and buckled himself in. Should he?

It would be rude not to.

But what of curiosity's sake?

Eirwen peeled the corner of the envelope away and the moment he saw a stack of monetary notes, he closed it back up again.

***

The Sickle Avenue Caverns in Necronia's foothills were the next stop. Though the area was misty and still with death, harpies and ghouls were in a back-and-forth tizzy about the holiday season.

“Hermano!” Besame flew over to his older brother, the larger Camazotz (death-bat) hugging him tight.

“Gracias, Eirwen.” He said before they both flew off into their cavern home.

***

Eirwen never left a meeting with Klickshe's uncles without feeling woefully under-dressed and frayed down to the emotional bone.

As he helped the little Kobold take her bags to the sleek, modern townhouse decorated in minimalist lights, he knew this would be more of the same.

“Uncle Roderiche! Uncle Gille!”

Gille was an old Dullahan who quickly had to settle his head upon his shoulders in order to give Klickshe a hug.

Roderiche was the tiny Kobold's biological uncle (as if one couldn't tell with him being the only Kobold out of the two adults). He adjusted his slim designer frames and circled Eirwen. “Do us a favor and make good use of that gift card, Eirwen.”

“O-of course.” Eirwen sighed in defeat.

***

“One side; coming THROUGH!”

Eirwen pulled Pepper Mint and Winter Mint out of the way of a rickety cart full of raw ivory.

The Ivory Mines in West Miasmus were the dwelling place for Dama Fristad's Tooth-Fairy population. There were habitual visits to ShimmerGale in order to pay respects to the Father of Elves and Sire of Fae, but they needed the ivory in these mines to survive and work.

“Are those my boys?” The visage of a young man with swirling red and white hair fluttered in front of Eirwen with puffy, gossamer wings that always reminded him of pillows.

The whole of the Ivory Mines gave one a nostalgic sense of brushing your teeth before bedtime as a child.

“Dad!”

“Dad!” Pepper Mint and Winter Mint squirmed out of Eirwen's grasp and fluttered to their father.

The Tooth-Fairy Major held his sons tight and looked to Eirwen. “How's the Snowfall treating you?”

Eirwen smiled and gave a small wave of his hand. “It's going pretty well.”

He was already about to pass out on his feet.

The Tooth-Fairy Major opened his mouth to say something, a roar from one of the back caverns surging up to interrupt him.

“Oh! That'll be the wife!”

“Well, I wouldn't want to keep you.” Eirwen carefully backed up, not wanting to incur the wrath of any frantic Tooth-Fairy Majors or any ferocious Tooth-Fairy Minors.

***

After dropping Masumi off with her parents (her Moon Bunny mother and Jackalope father) at their hutch-complex home, Eirwen just had one stop left before he and Juke could get to his parents'.

He knocked on the door in front of him, stepping back into the hallway of an apartment building to wait.

The door pulled inwards to reveal the very zlatorog doe who served as the forensic scientist for Dama Fristad Police. “Blitzelle, mein baby.”

“Aw, mom!” The little reindeer-deer laughed and bounded over. As he was nuzzled down by his mother, Blitzelle couldn't help himself and his antlers and hooves started glowing bright.

“Dad's here, right?”

“Well, baby,” Blitzelle's mother winced, “About that...”

But Blitzelle slipped away into the large apartment and bounded around the big Christmas tree. There were nine particular ornaments scattered amongst the tinsel and lace: all strong, powerful reindeer fitted with red leather reigns and silver bells.

Blitzelle clip-clopped forward, eyes widening at one reindeer in particular.

Eirwen stepped up, noticing the unease slacking Blitzelle's mother's shoulders. “Are you going to be alright?”

“He's been late the last four Snowfalls.” She whispered, “Ze only zing Blitzelle ever wants is for his father to be here for Snowfall. And he can never do zat simple thing.”

“He works really hard on Snowfall Eve.” Eirwen offered, “I'm sure he tries his best to get here on time.”

But the zlatorog-doe shook her head. “I thought zat too. Ze first three times.”

 

The latest house that they stopped on was in a small town currently strangled by a blizzard and bad behavior.

Hooves tapped impatiently against the roof shingles and a warm red light flickered on and off. “Come on...” A snort. “Come on, come on! I can't be late again, _please!”_

***

“Nein, nein, nein!” Beatrisa exhaled a puff of steam as her frustration mounted. “Heisenberg's Principle is centered around the idea of indetermination! It's meant to be false!”

Heidi was sitting at the kitchen counter, looking at the small parcel that had been left for her on the bus.

She honestly couldn't think of anyone who would have left something for her aside from her father or sisters.

“Maybe Klickshe?” She turned the small gift around. But the wrapping was so simple, Klickshe wouldn't be caught dead with something like that.

While she mused, Nephubos gave his response to little Beatrisa's latest retort. _'But if you are taking into account the expanse of space then there will be a place where an object's mass is static compared to the velocity. In that regard, you could finally measure both and the Principle is null and void.'_

“It can not work like that!” Beatrisa whined. Constanz bounced and floated through the air. She drifted over to where Mira was floundering further and further into bad luck.

“Come on!” Mira shouted at the latest bad roll, “This is impossible, I planned this out for months and--”

Constanz licked a wet, slobbery line up the side of his chest. “Get out of here!”

Constanz whined and floated off, allowing Mira to get back to his phone. “Come on, damn it...” He hit 'Roll' on each game.

Waited.

And.

And...

“Special Get!”

“Ultra Sparker!”

“Magician's Royale!”

“Holy... fucking... shit.” Mira gawked at his phone. Perfect rolls. “What the hell changed, I...”

Mira whipped his head over to where Constanz was slowly floating back to the kitchen.

His tongue lashed out and wrapped around the bubble and ragged her back next to him. “Espera!” When Constanz blinked up at him, Mira said, “You just became,” He pressed in for another roll, marking it rich once more, “My new lucky charm.”

***

Gahiji peered into a storefront displaying boxes of handcrafted chocolates and sweets. Bonbons, truffles, bars, all of them bearing either a opalescent finish or shimmering snowflake sprinkles.

“How about these?” Asked Gahiji, to which Fane shook his head.

“Why are you so hard-up on getting presents for everyone? It's not like they got you anything.”

Gahiji chuckled and gave a little shrug. “You don't give presents just to get stuff in return, silly!” Gahiji dunked his head into his saddlebag and grabbed his wallet with his mouth. “Mm gunna b'y s'me. Waf m' b'g!”

“No, damn it, come back!” Fane reached out for the sphinx but he was already in the store. Not without swiping left on his crystal-recaller though. Fane left the bag on the ground but didn't move. Not because he was watching it or anything, stupid! He just didn't see the merit in trying to move a bag that weighed as much as he did.

He leaned against it and, no, he definitely did not appreciate the warmth of the tanned leather against his frigid bones and dead flesh.

BZZZ!

“Son of a bitch!” Fane's minute bit of silence was broken by the damn vibrations of Gahiji's tablet. “Fucking...” He tore the device out of the bag, determined to bitch out whoever was on the other end. What did it matter if it wasn't his phone?! He was having a shitty Snowfall, the holiday already pretty damn shitty in of itself, he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

Fane pressed the home button and came face to face with a little doodle of Gahiji's shining face asking for a password.

“Gee, I can't possibly know what it could be.” Fane rolled his eyes before typing in 'SPHINX'. The screen opened up and Fane was able to read a text message.

His face softened up.

Another.

“Wait...”

One more.

“Hold on...”

 

Why the hell were there so many? And they had been read, just not answered outside of a left swipe. But it was the texts sent by one 'Dark-Doggy' that had the most offense, most incensed tones in between the words.

 

“I think I got enough chocolates for everyone!”

Fane shoved the crystal-recaller back into Gahiji's bag when he heard the sphinx bouncing out of the shop. He leaned against the back and pulled his scowl back onto his face, scoffing out, “Are you done yet, fat-ass?”

Gahiji nodded, several boxes balanced on his head. He dropped them into his saddlebag and picked it up. “Come on, let's go to the next store! More presents!”

***

Why is it that, when stuck in gridlocked traffic with cars kissing bumper to bumper, that people think honking one's horn to the point of hoarseness will make things flow faster?

T'would be a mystery to continue on until the decay of time. For now, however, Abelard was trapped in the muck of traffic. Thousands of cars full of millions of humans and nonhumans trying to get home or to work before night fell.

“For heaven's sake!” Abelard rubbed at his temples. He looked in the rear-view mirror at the bag of presents he had finally managed to get from that damn boutique. Though it didn't matter if he got the gifts if he couldn't get home on time.

The radio crackled on with the dramatic sting of the Dama Fristad News Station. Usually the radio would be handled by the city's premium DJs, but they had handled the morning broadcasts and were off for Snowfall.

“Good Evening, Dama Fristad!” A warm, charismatic voice said, “I'm Bailey Barnes of the Dama Fristad News team with a traffic report.”

Feathered wings flapped in the background. “Traffic on Lady Overpass is backed up for miles with everyone rushing home from Snowfall shopping or rushing out to pick up that last bottle of ShimmerCider! I pity the poor bastards stuck in this mess because we're looking at at least a delay of 2 hours!”

“2 HOURS?!” Abelard sputtered out, flabbergasted. Not thinking twice, he ripped his book out of his briefcase and flipped through it. There was one spell that he made good use of, albeit rarely. He just needed an opening.

An RV to his left, full of gnomes trying to head to Ignis Fanis for a Snowfall vacation, sped up and created a gap in the congestion.

Abelard reversed, pulled left, and sped towards the divider. His car clipped over it and went flying into the air.

“Ausfstieg und Haftung!” Abelard shouted. His eyes ignited in cerulean and viridian fire, magic surrounding the bottom of his car like the smoke of a vintage cigar.

The car smacked into the side of a building but it didn't crash so much as get a rolling landing on its tires.

Abelard wasn't a reckless driver, he swore he wasn't. He just sometimes needed a little bit of leniency with the laws of the road.

Or the laws of the sides of buildings like the one he was speeding across.

The car swerved to the right with a particularly fast turn and Abelard followed the momentum to speed off of the building and land on the walls of the conference skyscraper next to it.

As long as he got to the condo in the next hour, it wouldn't be so bad.

He just wanted to get home to see his girls. What kind of father wasn't around to spend the holidays with his children?

***

Wherever Gahiji walked he carried the warmth of the sun with him. That's what a lot of the whispers concerning him stated and the way that his paws left warm spots on the snowy sidewalk testified for it. “Ooh! Scarfs!” Gahiji said as he bounced. “Everyone can use a scarf! Let's go find a place selling scarfs!”

“Hey.”

“Mm?” Gahiji stopped but didn't turn around. Fane clicked his tongue, hunching his shoulders. His eye couldn't decide whether it liked the ground or his shoes better. “What would you be doing right now? If it wasn't for all this Snowfall shoppi--”

“You looked at my tablet? Didn't you?”

Fane's eye went wide. He didn't get to say anything, though, Gahiji speaking, “It's okay. You were curious. I'm not mad.” Gahiji didn't turn around: just stayed on that cool patch of sidewalk. “I just don't want to spend time with my family on Snowfall.”

“You're the one who's been hyping today up?!” Fane snapped at him, “Dragging me around, sneaking into my room, gawking at all the normie holiday bullshit! What the fuck do you mean 'you don't want to spend time with your family'?!”

“Are you spending time with your family?”

Fane choked on the spit gathering in his mouth. “Wh-where the fuck do you get off?!”

Gahiji went on, finally sitting down, “Life's funny, isn't it?” His back remained turned towards the young phantom. “How much we can stand from those around us. It's amazing... but sad. You could probably say I'm a hypocrite, but it's kind of hard to care with a hundred different hands and claws trying to get their own piece of you.”

The wind curled through the air above them. Snowflakes were just beginning to reform for that night's flurry.

“I just wanna spend time with people who don't see me as a little kitten or something that needs fixing, or a burden or a flame to be rekindled.”

Gahiji stood up and turned to Fane, smile present on his face. “I'd rather spend it with my new friends. That's why I wanted to come out here with you today. So, come on!” Gahiji padded over for a few beats until he got enough rhythm back to resume bouncing. “Let's go get the last of these Snowfall parcels!”

Fane didn't follow at first. The young phantom regarded his own hands. One of cold bone, one of dead flesh.

_**“Absolutely worthless.”** _

_“Look, kid, I'm trying my best here.”_

“Damn it,” Fane jogged after Gahiji, “Wait up, you fat furry fuck!”

***

 

There existed, in Dama Fristad, a chamber. It was immense in size, three infinitesimal mountains high, and the shifting walls changed from rich, violet velvet.

To crimson glass.

To rolling verdant sloughs.

To wisping, tickling smoke.

To pitch black, writhing tendrils.

And then to coursing, pure blue waters before restarting the cycle.

This chamber, with gossamer orbs of light that bobbed about and diamond-shaped pieces of ice that were neither cold nor hot streaking about, was in a location only known by six.

Three of the six were currently within this obscured chamber.

> _**“Another Snowfall come and gone.”** _

Akeldama yawned, the Shadow of Death reaching for a bottle of wine that had been left at one of his many altars across the world. He lifted the bottle's shadow; peeled it off from the floor and brought it to himself.

> _**“No matter how many I watch the years herald in ice and death, even I can't deny it's beauty.”** _

He knocked some of the wine's shadow back, chuckling,

> _**“Even if it means my workload doubling up.”** _
> 
> _“And that is what assigned help shines for...”_

Trillium the Fair sighed from where he reclined on a laying sofa built from pearl silk and golden branches.

> _“To relegate the work to so you can enjoy a mere several days without being god and father of everything.”_

One of the diamond shapes lowered to the floor, the warm, thrumming floor, and stretched itself out until it stood upon three thin legs and reached out to either side with thin, needle-like arms.

It plucked and pinned over the warm floor to the long table covered in candied meats and glazed fruits and cakes of the season.

Trillium the Fair tipped his head back. The subordinate entity, this strange being of pure magic and energy, lowered one of the morsels close enough for him to take a bite. When the entity leaned back in waiting, Trillium glanced over to the vast pools where Siklon was currently resting.

Though 'rest' was relative with how much each of his eyes was expanding and contracting at random.

Trillium opened his mouth again, the fruit being brought close enough once more.

> _“Siklon.”_

Trillium swallowed,

> _“What torments thee so?”_
> 
> _**“IT'S...”** _

Siklon hissed, the water around his chest snapping between boiling and freezing solid.

> _**“NOTHING.”** _

Trillium wasn't convinced.

> _“You need music.”_
> 
> _**“I DO NOT NE--”** _
> 
> _“You!”_

Trillium jabbed his staff towards six descending shapes, each of them taking the form of the first entity of magic.

> _“Sing something for our dear Araegisses-Alu.”_
> 
> _**“DAMN IT, TRILLIUM...”** _

Siklon hissed, but the six entities were already forming into a circle.

When they stood in position, an inhaling was heard as their smooth faces pulled into deep holes.

Their song was low and resounding. It peeked with rolling highs and dipped with building swells.

With all of the six 'singing' it was impossible to pin where the song was born and where it began to die.

But it echoed against the walls and ceilings.

One of Siklon's webbed hands clenched onto itself.

> _**“Oh, look!”** _

Akeldama said,

> _**“The noodles are here!”** _

Two of the entities rolled over two carts, each bearing a great covered bowl made of gold.

In front of Siklon's pool, a dozen of the magic forms carried over a covered golden bowl the size of an oil-tanker.

> _**“Maybe this'll get them to calm the hell down.”** _

Akeldama sighed, feeling the tensity between the other two guardians crackle like approaching lightning.

***

“Brr!” Rory pulled his elderberry winter-coat closer to him. He shivered from a stray breeze blowing right through him. The Snowfall flurries were starting to kick up so he wanted to find his young friend as soon as possible. But, before that, he dropped off the last of his Snowfall parcels into an emergency postage chute.

Rory inserted the proper payment (approximately $32.53) and left behind a platter of homemade Winter's Milk. The sweet, warming elixir would hopefully ease the burden of a last-minute flurry of frigid flight.

With the parcels sent off, Rory turned to his main focus. “Where are you right now?” He asked the frosty Snowfall air.

A wisp of ice curled through the air, catching upon his curls. Rory turned and followed the wisp as it traveled down a small alleyway.

“Hello?” Rory gave a call. “Is anyone in here?”

He felt a might silly calling out to nothing, but he felt in his heart of hearts that he was on the right track.

Rory stepped deeper in. His focus burned on finding the child with the icy hair and quiet countenance.

A familiar sliver of darkness, that persistent Nightmare who had no understanding of letting things go. He lurched forward.

A ball of ice shot through the air and pelted the Nightmare in the face. He hissed and slithered away into the darkness just as Rory turned around. “Oh, thank goodness!”

The child of ice and snow was there in front of him. “I wanted to see if you wanted to spend Snowfall at my house. I have plenty of food to share and we could watch a holiday mo--”

The child quickly padded over and took Rory's hand.

Rory smiled, the gesture warm enough to melt away the cold in his hand.

***

Eirwen locked up the bus and tossed the keys in his pocket. “Come on,” He led the way to the small house nestled between a bakery and a motorcycle shop. “My parents should be expecting us.”

Juke stopped in his tracks. ~~“I'm gonna bother them...”~~

“Juke...” Eriwen knelt down. “My parents are going to love having you over. You don't have to worry. Now,” He stood, “Come on, let's get out of the cold.”

They walked to the front door. One knock later and a sweet voice asked, “Who is~ it?”

“Mom, it's me.” Eirwen chuckled. The door opened out and a ghost flew out. Bouncing curls, a cozy apron, pretty pumps, and several spirit orbs made up their persona.

“Eirwen, honey! You've finally made it!”

“Hi mom.” Eirwen rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry for being late. Had a few delays with dropping off the kids.”

“Applesauce!” Mrs. Leadhooves waved off the concern and pulled at his son's arm. Of course, his ghostly arms slipped through Eirwen and Eirwen led Juke into the cozy home.

“Oh~!” Mrs. Leadhooves floated down to get a good look at the little creature under the sheet. “Who's this little old jitterbug?”

“This is Juke.” Eirwen gently urged him forward towards his mother figure. “And he's going to be spending Snowfall with us.”

“Oh, that's the cat's pajamas! We would love to have him!” Mrs. Leadhooves grinned down at Juke. “You wanna help me bake some cookies, little cutie? Doesn't that sound absolutely berries? Come on.”

Mrs. Leadhooves floated into the kitchen, Juke rapidly following behind him on his spindly legs. “As soon as these come out of the oven, we're gonna sit down for dinner, boss man!”

The pig-faced orc sitting on the couch gave an affirmative hum of “Mm,” but, otherwise, went back to reading his newspaper.

Mrs. Leadhooves led Juke away to the kitchen, giggling about cookies and Santa while Eirwen took a seat next to his dad on the couch. He deflated into it: his shoulders slumping and his muscles finally easing up. Mr. Leadhooves looked over from his newspaper. Eirwen was too tired to follow his dad's motions. He just sat there until the couch dipped again and something cold was held in front of his face.

When Eirwen opened his eyes to see a can of Orcenblaut Stout in front of him. He took it and saw his father with his own can.

Two pull-tabs were cracked at the same time.

Two cans were knocked back at the same time.

Both Mr. Leadhooves and his son gave a satisfied exhale at the same time.

“Thanks Dad.”

“Mm.”


	38. Snowfall - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, what's Zach been up to this whole time? We should take a look at that...

* * *

 

 

It got harder every year.

 

And every year his efforts were appreciated less and less.

 

He and his brothers. Every year they braved the desolate fields of the world and the poisoned hearts of men to maybe, maybe change the tides of the worst of them.

 

“...” He pointed a lone finger towards an empty glass on the bar. All gnarled wood and bone.

 

These past fifty Snowfalls had been the worst. The hearts and wills of men had seemingly turned stone in their determination to stand as bastions of misery to their fellow man.

 

And, to think: he had considered Ebeneezer an arduous night.

 

For he was the shadowed herald of dread and the results of man's neglect and folly. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

 

And this Snowfall season had him wanting to throw in his flowing robes of ash and jagged branches.

 

The heart of the man the three of them had visited had been black with rot; his mind foul and curdled.

 

Christmas Past had shown him visions of parents who had awaited and planned for their blessed bundles of joy. All the time, prayers, and struggles.

 

Nothing.

 

Christmas Present had showed him how much the years without their precious gifts had ruined so many lives. So many mothers cleaved in two over the children who would never come home.

 

Nothing.

 

Finally, as all else had failed, Christmas Yet-to-Come had whisked the man away to see the futures of all involved: children dead, children forced to bear children of their own, shallow, unmarked graves, deaths from grief...

 

Not a single effort had swayed the heart of the man, of that... monster. Did the world no longer have any use for them?

 

The hearts of men, were they truly lost in a world so besieged by war, by famine, by miserable thoughts?

 

A glass slid into his empty hand. He picked it up and tossed it back into the abyss under his hood.

 

Past and Present had tried to invite him to Dama Fristad's city of fire to recuperate, but he didn't know what fire and hot springs would do for his cooling existence.

 

Even now, sitting at the bar in some dive in Necronia, the Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come felt the shying away of the other customers. Even in the legendary city of humans and nonhumans, Christmas Yet-to-Come's presence was an omen for those able to see him. That bony finger ran along the rim of his glass, making a silvery, sweet song of subtle sorrow.

 

Did this world... Still need them?

 

If mankind was so far gone, then why did they try so hard every year?

 

“Here.”

 

A large, steady hand set a glass of blue liquor dusted in grey next to his own.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come dipped his hooded head down to the glass. He lifted up to look upon the stoic face of a young human man.

 

“It's stronger than what you were having.” He picked up his own glass of something purple streaked with white. “But it seems like the barkeep is giving you a hard time.” The human lifted his glass. Waited.

 

Waited.

 

Waited.

 

Oh.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come lifted his glass. They clinked against one another, drinking gently and calmly in the face of simple company.

 

“I'm Zach.” The human introduced himself. Lord, the boy didn't have much of an emotional range, did he?”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come needs no introductions, though that brings a perplexity. This boy had to know who he was... Right?

 

Zach finished off his drink, looking no worse for wear despite the strong scent that even burned Yet-to-Come's nostrils.

 

“Rough night?”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come looked back to see Zach leaning on the back of his hand. “You don't have to say anything. I can tell.”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come didn't say anything else. Not because this young human said he didn't need to, or anything like that.

 

Idiot.

 

“...” Yet-to-Come skimmed a finger around the rim of his glass. His thoughts followed, forming into a ring of thought. Question. Summation. Question. Summation.

 

“What is it about this season that brings out both the good and bad in people?”

 

The human was talking again.

 

“I get it. Not everyone sees the holidays as something to get all up in arms about, but...” Zach downed the contents of another glass, setting it down amongst several empty ones. “Isn't there something to be said about goodwill and familiarity?”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come didn't have an answer. He just didn't, he was too tired with his failed efforts. He just...

 

Gnarled, bony fingers scratched into the varnish of the bar.

 

“Then again, I could just be talking out of my ass.” Zach looked down at the gouges in the polished wood. “Do you have any plans after this?”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come quietly looked at the young human.

 

Zach said nothing more. Just looked at him with those listless eyes and several empty glasses in front of him.

 

***

 

The door to a lovely hotel room was forced open and quickly shut behind two bodies.

 

Zach's breath was short, harsh bursts as the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come pressed him up against the shut door.

 

The air outside was cold but it paled in comparison to the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come's frigid breath upon his skin once his clothes had been shirked off.

 

Those gnarled, bony fingers lazily dragged down the human's skin, catching on every dip and every ridge of muscle.

 

“...”

 

“Oh.” Zach looked down to the floor, “Thanks.”

 

When Yet-to-Come's fingers moved back up to Zach's chest, he took the defined pecs in his hands. He squeezed them, rolling the pointed nubs in the front.

 

“Yeah, I work out.” Zach deadpanned, “Are you... going to keep focusing on those, or...”

 

Yet-to-Come dipped his hooded abyss against the nape of Zach's neck. Zach's body shuddered at the cool contact. He punched his fist into the wall when icy pin-pricks sank into the skin and muscle.

 

“Warn a guy, would you?” He panted. His nerves whisked him down a familiar path, frayed raw by that bite.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come removed himself from the human after a glance to the wall in question.

 

“Did you want to take this to bed?” Zach asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He brought his fingers back, noting the slight amount of blood they had with them.

 

“...”

 

“You're not the worst bite I've ever gotten.” Zach reassured him. And it was true. Then again, he should have thought twice about getting down with that merman during Mardi Gras a few years back.

 

Anyway...

 

He looked to see the robes of the winter spirit spreading apart ever so slightly. Out sprung the focus of Zach's intentions. He tilted his head before nodding to himself.

 

“...” The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come wasn't going to force him out of his comfort-zone or anything. No matter  how  touch-starved he was.

 

“Don't take me being quiet as second-thoughts.” Zach dipped forward, taking a deep breath of Yet-to-Come's scent: icy whispers of oak and mint with a faint hint of aged musk. “Just thinking up my approach.” The winter spirit had to be at least nine inches with a sizable thickness. He took another breath and then he reached out with both hands to get a hold of the substantial girth.

 

Despite being made of smoke, wood, and ice, the gnarled length ran hot. Like the sting of warmth after coming from the edge of frostbite.

 

Did this hurt a bit in his hands? How was it going to be inside of him?

 

He was impatient (he had to get back to the condo to start dinner and fix the heating) but he started his hand-job off slow. His hands stroked what he could get in his hands and, when a sizable amount of off-white slick had sluiced down from the tip, down the winding length, he moved faster.

 

“...”

 

“Yeah, I bet.” Zach replied, jacking the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come's dick faster when his hands got wet enough. It was twitching in his hands by the time he let go in favor of leaning forward.

 

“...” The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come reached out with those grim hands.

 

Zach wasn't deterred. “This isn't my first rodeo, buddy.”

 

He took the dripping tip past his lips, that burning frostbite taking over the front of his tongue.

 

Zach sucked at the head, swallowing down the growing slick and taking him in deeper. He grows a little greedier for it, sucking harder to pull the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come just that bit closer to blowing.

 

But then he stopped.

 

Pulling off, licking lips sticky and slightly swollen, Zach jacked the spirit off twice more. He noticed the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come's hands twitching and asked, “Are you thinking of prepping me?” Zach asked the spirit beneath him. “Don't worry about it. There's no need.”

 

Did this human have a death-wish? Despite being mostly gossamer, he could still do some severe damage going in raw.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come watched Zach lean back a bit with his legs spread wide.

 

Wait.

 

Wait, what was  that ?

 

Zach's fingers circled around the base of the black butt-plug lodged deep in his hole. “I usually don't go out for drinks without being prepared on my own end.” Still emotionless, still even-toned, Zach eased the plug out of him. His hole was hungrily anticipating something taking the place of the discarded plug: a copious amount of lube trickling out of him.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come reached up just for Zach to press his hands back down. “Lay back.” Zach insisted. “And let me ride.”

 

He lifts his hips up, muscles flexing, and sits on the the spectral dick offered to him. At first thought, the idea of ice and wood being shoved up into such an intimate place was horrific. But Zach knew a little about nonhumans. You don't live life in a city of nonhumans and beasts, with your blood running hot, and not pick up a thing or two. A burst of icy air flooded into the room when the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come gasped; the sound punched out of his core.

 

Oh God. Oh, merciful  God  in Heaven above, how  long  had it been? Since he had something so hot, so silken, so tight enveloping his prick?

It was enough to get him spewing right then. But he couldn't have this ending so soon!

 

Zach didn't stop until he was seated in the cloaked spirit's lap. This close... the size difference between them was truly palpable. The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come had to be at least twice as broad as him and one and a half times as tall.

 

Something flipped in Zach's stomach and he ground down in slow, syrupy motion that enveloped both of them from head to toe.

 

“Hang on.”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come just caught the whisper before Zach really began bouncing. He rolled his hips, his abs bunching and relaxing with each dip and tilt. Zach dug both hands into the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come's robes and anchored himself for the ride.

 

His visage was still a black void. But he drank in his fill of Zach's stoic face dripping with sweat, his bangs plastered to his forehead. He feasted upon flushed skin and defined muscles underneath it and his ruddy, dripping cock that begged for a rough, heavy touch to stroke it to completion. He watches the human lick his lips and toss his head back: droplets of sweat flying and a stark gasp leaving him.

 

There was something that fluttered beneath the strength of the human, the subdued passion, the quiet heat. What was it? It ran like  water  and churned like a  whirlpool  –

 

“..!” The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come seized Zach by the waist: bucking up into his heat.

 

Zach shook his head. “Don't hold back. Come on. Come... inside of me.”

 

There is a hissing gasp and Zach feels a splash of come inside of him that burns as much as it chills. The extreme contrast and the sensation of being full with it pulls him into a quick bark of a climax. He comes all over his chest and stomach and struggles to still the shudders afterwards.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come collapses back into bed, his chest heaving. Zach looks down at him for a while.

 

He gets up, after a minute or two to recover, and pulls off. Huh. The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come's cum was black. Interesting thing to note as it leaked out of him down the backs of his thighs.

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come was still relishing the afterglow. He was used to his cold aura of death and regret being his sole companion, only slightly pushed away whenever he was in the same vicinity of Christmas Past.

 

Heat. Warmth. A yielding body.

 

This... had been nice.

 

“Feel better?”

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come looked up to see that, somewhere in his thoughts, Zach had taken a shower and was already dressed.

 

“...” What else could he say? 'You were an amazing fuck?' Maybe 'Can I get your number so we can do this again before I fall into depression?' But, no. He just kept it at that.

 

“Hm.” Zach brushed one of his bangs out of his face. “That makes one of us, I guess.” The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come shot up from that. But Zach was already out the door.

 

The hotel was silent. The air smelled of sweat and sex and it leaves the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come enough room to think on the nature of the abyss. Of darkness. 

 

Of guilt.

 

Wait.

 

Wait! Wait!  _ WAIT ! _

 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come shot up from the bed. He fastened his robes and ran to the door, yanking it open.

 

No. No...  Damn it , where'd he go?!

 

How had he been so  stupid ?! How had he forgotten?! Was he really in so much despair, so much longing that he forgot the one truth of his fundamental being?

 

***

 

Zach jumped off of the RBTrolley and jogged into one of the few grocery stores still open as the sun was setting on Snowfall Eve.

He gave a simple nod to the teen manning the counter before pulling a cart out of the corral and pushed it down the aisle for flour and baked goods.

 

After that he went to the dairy aisle to pick out three cartons of eggs and some milk. Before he left the aisle, he picked up two more cartons of eggnog. He didn't know why, but he just felt like they would be important.

 

Cashews from the produce crates, along with bell peppers. He plucked a berry the color of blood from a bushel of them and pressed it to his lips, biting it in two. The small amount of juice, thick and sanguine, trickled down the side of his mouth.

 

Two drops fell to the floor but he managed to catch them with his free hand in the nick of time. A quick wipe of his hand on his pants, so no one would see, and Zach went on with his business. No one the wiser.

 

When Zach got to the deli, he realized a bit of conundrum. What do you substitute beef with when someone can't have it?

 

Bison should work. He picked up thirty pounds worth of bison meat and twenty pounds of bison spare-ribs.

 

He didn't even want to think about the total at the register. He paid the teen, hefted up his bags, and was on his way. Good thing, too, because he was just about to miss the last RBTrolley of the night. After putting in more than enough fare in and telling the conductors to just put the extra towards another person's ride, Zach sat down in the empty corner of seats near the back. All of his groceries around him, he was finally able to think and reflect.

 

And then realize he had forgotten one of the main things to do on Snowfall.

 

Zach immediately brought out his phone.

 

***

 

The door to 1685 Blightblossom Lane burst inward before the doorfairies could announce it: a certain rakshasa strolling in. “I am back from Ignis Fanis~!”

 

He had a rosy flush on his features, the type that betrayed a day of hot springs and warm drinks. He looked around to see Mira still on his phone, Constanz floating in the air above him. On the other side of the condo he could see Nephubos debating with Beatrisa. “Where is every – Whoa!”

 

“Out of  muh way , ya  curry-coated queer !” Odysseus stumbled into Suraj from behind. He reeked of booze and, much to Suraj's snickering delight, was covered from sugar-glitter from the chest down.

 

“That stuff is, like, the herpes of the creative world, you know.”

 

“ Mmfuck off... ” Odysseus fell onto the couch, conking out immediately.

 

Suraj stepped into the kitchen. “Where is everyone?” He asked, grabbing a bag of chips.

 

“That's what I want to know...” Heidi mumbled, resting her head upon the table.

 

The door opened up again, Gahiji bouncing in with Fane who frowned and rolled his eyes until he saw Suraj.

 

“Alright, that's better...” Suraj nodded, “How did you guys spend the day?”

 

“We got Snowfall parcels!” Gahiji grabbed his bag in his teeth and upended it all over the coffee table. Crushing all of Mira's snacks in the process.

 

“Ay, what the fuck?!” Mira shouted but he ended up shrugging, “Ah, fuck it. All my game events have ended by now anyway.”

 

Fane shoved his way into the kitchen where Suraj was. “He dragged me out and all over town. It was bullshit.”

“Come on,” Suraj poured some of the chips into a bowl and brought a jar of dip from the fridge, “I'm sure it wasn't all bad. Gahiji is a living, breathing party.”

 

Fane scrunched up his face, a green blush showing up on his cheek. He looked to Gahiji. “Yeah. A r eal barrel of laughs. ” He added, grabbing a handful of chips.

 

The door opened once again. “Furchtbarer Verkehr! Und die Bauherren waren noch schlimmer! 'Ach, bitte fahre nicht mein hübsches, zimperliches Gebäude' – I mean...” 

 

Abelard had to look up from his grousing and fuming when he walked into the condo and kicked back into his calmer, appropriate persona. “Mein Honigbienen!”

 

“Vati!” Heidi, Beatrisa, and Constanz cried out their joy. They ran over to their father's arms, receiving a great big hug for their efforts.

 

“My apologies, with all of my work I almost forgot about the holiday.”

 

Heidi didn't let go, even when Abelard bent down to pick up the presents he had dropped in his haste. “You work too much. You haven't even come to visit us at school yet.”

 

“But I call every other night.” Abelard set the gifts down in his room and then, with his girls still hanging off of him, walked into the kitchen. “Hm?” He noticed Suraj and Fane eating chips and a distinct lack of steam. “Are we... not having Snowfall Noodles, tonight?”

 

“Snowfall Noodles?” Suraj asked, but Fane scoffed before he could get clarification.

 

“Do we  look  like chefs, you dusty kraut fuck? Just wait for Zach to come back or something.”

 

The condo shook several times as Gahiji made his way over to the couch. “Time for the best part of Snowfall! Predictable holiday specials on TV!”

 

The TV turned on to show Tiny Tim about to ask for everyone's blessings.

 

“Fucking  _ HELL..! _ _”_  Odysseus groaned, his face smothered into the couch stuffing. “Turn that shit _off..!_ ”

 

Gahiji pouted. “But everyone loves Charles Dickens~!”

 

“No one actually  likes  Christmas Carol, dipfuck,” Odysseus rolled over, “Humans just watch it because its on...”

 

“What about the Muppet one?” Mira asked, upping the TV volume.

 

“That one doesn't  COUNT..! ” Odysseus snatched the remote away and changed the channel.

 

_ “ I'm Mr. White Christmas, _

_ I'm Mr. Snow~!” _

 

“Oh.” Suraj looked over at the screen, his tail swinging in time with the music. “He's cute.”

 

“Snow-Miser?” Fane gawked, “Seriously? I've met him. He's an asshole.”

 

Suraj wasn't convinced. “Anyone who can sing and dance like that can not be that bad.”

 

“ Ugh..! ” Fane stormed into the main room, leaving Suraj to blink and wonder.

 

“What did I say?”

 

Fane snatched the remote away and flipped through channel after channel.

 

He only stopped when the button got stuck and the TV settled on...

 

“Welcome back to the Three Kings Crafting Network's Snowfall Eve marathon.”

 

All the nonhumans in the condo tilted their heads to the side, regarding the screen that showed the visage of a older man dressed in magnificent robes.

 

“Thank you all for coming back.” He said, picking up a golden bottle from his work desk. “Let's continue making the gold bottles for our Frankincense gifts, hm? Just a little roll through the crystals here...”

 

He did just that, rolling the small gold bottle over a layer of bright beads. “And, remember, it's okay if the beads don't stick on the first go. It just means that yo can try again. It's just like the path of life.”

 

Everyone tilted their heads to the opposite side.  _ 'Why... is this one unable to look away?' _  Nephubos asked, but no one paid them much mind. Not with the gentle words and oddly satisfying visuals on the TV.

 

***

 

Zach hadn't wanted to bother the grocery-delivery gryphons with such a small order. He made it to his hallway, groceries bunched up in his muscular arms. “Get this on the stove, fix the heater, then...” He stopped, thinking more on that tidbit. “Huh. Well, there's probably something else that needs to be fixed.”

 

“Zachary!”

 

“Oh God.” Zach lowered the groceries to see Silveste and his small procession approaching. He readied his ears for an extensive conversation. “Yes?”

 

Silveste scrunched up his face, tapped a crystal hoof to the floor, and shook his head with a flourish of his fabulous mane. “How... was your... day?”

 

Zach gave a slow blink. “Fine... Are you hungry?”

 

“Mm-hm.” Silveste's face looked three kinds of constipated with his short, abrupt nod.

 

Blancher, holding some of Silveste's own Snowfall offerings, muttered, “Your Majesty, that's good.” Bruner adding,

 

“Good first try.”

 

“Oh, thank the majestic stars and constellations in the higher vicinity above!” Silveste deflated and swooned against the wall.

 

Zach set a bar of chocolate, some real high-end stuff with pearl shavings in the mix, in the pot of Blightblossoms. “Happy Snowfall.”

 

“Happy Snowfall to you too, buddy.” Periwinkle fluttered up and gave Zach a tiny fist-bump. “You good?”

 

Could Zach really answer that?

 

Bruner opened the door and allowed Silveste to step in before letting Zach follow the prince. “Hey guys, have you eaten?” Zach asked.

 

No one really responded. They were too taken by the TV.

 

Zach wasn't going to look a gift beehive and call it a wasp's nest. Silveste watched Zach set the groceries in the kitchen. He saw pots, frying pans, and several canisters of salts and spices. Zach picked up a bottle of whiskey. Silveste asked, “What is it that you are intending to execute in action and motion?”

 

“What am I doing?” Zach guessed correctly? “Making Snowfall Noodles.”

 

Silveste's eyes sparkled and he cleared his throat, Blancher bringing over the case that held his wand. “Allow me to provide assistance in the form of secondary support.”

 

Zach stopped collecting the necessary items. “You want to help?” He watched the unicorn prince retrieve his wand and nod. “Have you ever...  cooked  before?”

 

Silveste's wand gleamed ever bright and he shook his head.

 

“Okay.” Zach got the spices he needed from the pantry. “This will either be enlightening or it'll kill me.” Did salt expire? “Win-win, I guess?”

 

***

 

A large ceramic pot, still steaming from its time in an oven, was smacked down upon a dining table covered by a well-worn cloth. “Alright boys!” Mrs. Leadhooves lifted the lid off of the ceramic pot to reveal a thick, hearty soup of, lamb, turnips, and ravioli. “Time for some Leadhooves-style Snowfall Noodles! Come on, break a tailfeather and eat!”

 

Eirwen took it upon himself to serve everyone. First his father in a bowl the size of his head.

 

Second his mother with a small bowl the size of a mug. He gave Juke some in a fine china bowl before finally serving himself. He pierced one of the raviolis with a fork, the thick, creamy mushroom filling spilling out into the rest of the stout-based soup.

 

Before it could fall apart, Eirwen snapped it into his mouth and couldn't fight against the moan from the burst of earthy, dark, and slightly sweet.

 

The taste of a home he barely got to see anymore.

 

He looked over to Juke to see half of the little creature's noodles and berry juice gone. “Is it good?” He asked. 

 

~~“Mm-hm.”~~ Juke nodded and Eirwen went back to his meal. “The noodles are great, mom. I think you've outdone yourself this year!”

 

“Oh, bushwa!” Mrs. Leadhooves flicked his wrist and giggled, “You two say that every year! Right big boss?”

 

“Mm.” Mr. Leadhooves grunted, the pig-faced orc focused on his meal.

 

They ate in relative silence, Mrs. Leadhooves asking her son and their little guest if they wanted more noodles or drinks, until Juke's bowl was empty and he was swaying in his chair.  ~~“... sleepy...”~~

 

“Aw, you poor little cutie~!” Mrs. Leadhooves dropped the contents of her bowl into Mr. Leadhooves' bowl before floating over to the little creature under the sheet. “Come on, you can sleep off that huge meal in Eirwen's old bed! Ab-so-lute-ly!”

 

Eirwen finished off his bowl and went to the fridge for another orcenblaut. “Dad?” He held up his bottle.

 

Mr. Leadhooves nodded, his own bottle empty. Eirwen brought over a second bottle and sat down with his own. “Things goin' okay at the school?”

 

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Eirwen took a drink, “Just a few scragglers here and there. But the kids are great!”

 

Mr. Leadhooves set his drink down. “Wasn't askin' about the kids.”

 

Eirwen flinched. His foot tapped at the floor. “I...” His fingers tapped along his arms and, suddenly, he dug his nails into the skin of his arms. “I... The kids are fine...”

 

When Mr. Leadhooves smelled the draw of blood, he stood up. “Eirwen. Eirwen, come on back now.”

 

“I!” Eirwen gasped, his eyes focusing back onto the present. He relaxed a bit and removed his reddish fingernails from the skin of his arms.

 

Mr. Leadhooves sighed and sat back down. “Come home more often.”

 

Eirwen lowered his head. “I can't. I --”

 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Eirwen snapped up and stood. “That should be Juke's mom! I'll go get it!”

 

Mr. Leadhooves watched his son run to the door, run away from the issue at hand. It wasn't in him to press things. He didn't talk much on the best of days, but he did worry. The rough appearance and piggish face scared most people off, but that didn't stop the love he had for his little ghostly housewife and their beautiful –

 

_ “ Don't ask! D-do – NO! N-no-no, I-I didn't – Don'taskmequestions! Please, no! No, no..!” _

 

Kind-hearted –

 

_ So much blood. It was caked all over the walls. _

 

Son.

 

“He'll be right this way.” Eirwen pointed out the way to a woman of brown tone and braided hair. “Oh, this is my dad. Dad, this is Juke's mother.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you. Thanks  so  much for having my little bundle of trouble tonight.”

 

Mr. Leadhooves shook the woman's hand and gave another grunt. He could soon hear his wife insisting that the newcomer stay for dinner before she left with her child.

Left alone like that, he needed something to get his mind off of tears and blood.

 

Where the hell was his newspaper?

 

***

 

In their apartment above DFNM, the Dama Fristad News and Music station downtown, Fa Jiang laid on the couch with a pout on his chubby face. “Tchaikovsky..!” He yowled, the serpents of his scalp hissing in chorus, “Aren't those noodles done yet?!”

 

“Please to be waiting a bit more!” Tchaikovsky called back from the kitchen. He had tied his burnt golden locks back, purple eyes locked upon the wok he was ceaselessly stirring. He didn't even stop to pick up a needed bottle of vodka: his tail curling around the bottle and pouring in a hefty splash. “Ah!” He jumped back when a surge of flames licked out at him.

 

“Don't burn the apartment down before I can eat..!” Fa Jiang rolled over onto his stomach. It's not like whatever the incubus was working on didn't smell good, or whatever.

 

He was fucking  starving ! He hadn't even touched the sweets they had bought earlier!

 

“Finished!”

 

“Finally!” Fa Jiang jumped up and skated over to the table. He sat down and watched Tchaikovsky flit about: setting bowls, spoons, forks, and two bottles of ShimmerCider.

 

Fa Jiang wasted no time in cracking open a bottle of the blue and pink alcohol. The familiar scent of spring springing eternal tickled his nose.

 

“I am hoping for you to like them.” Tchaikovsky said and then begun ladling out a spicy, thin broth with thin, thin,  thin  slices of beets, prawns, and short, flat noodles.

Fa Jiang waited until his bowl was full. He grabbed a spoon and dug in. Tchaikovsky had poured himself a bowl and taken a seat, but he didn't want to start eating until Fa Jiang said...  something . But he was quiet outside of taking another spoonful.

 

“Are you... liking them?”

 

Fa Jiang took another bite and followed it with some ShimmerCider. The spoon didn't stay out of his mouth for long and he was eating some more. “They're...” Fa Jiang said around a mouth full of shrimp and noodles, “Good. I guess.”

 

Tchaikovsky gasped. His eyes grew wide along with the smile on his lips, his fangs peeking out. “I am... so happy...”

 

“Hey!” Fa Jiang jabbed his bottle in Tchaikovsky's direction, “Shut up with that and eat already! Your food's getting cold!”

 

Tchaikovsky nodded, taking his spoon and starting in on his bowl. He watched Fa Jiang shovel more of his noodles and shrimp into his mouth.

“Schastlivogo Snegopad, Fa Jiang.” Tchaikovsky whispered under his breath, looking to the window and seeing the snowflakes start to fall.

 

***

 

Blitzelle usually loved his mother's Snowfall Noodles: thick wheat noodles and cranberry-broth. But they usually only tasted good on the second day.

 

The first day...

 

“You are  always  doing this!!”

 

“Do you think it's by  _ choice?! _ ”

 

“Every year! Every! _Year!_ All Blitzelle wants is his family together on Snowfall Eve! You can't even do that! Why?!”

 

Blitzelle lapped at his noodles and sweet broth, trying to dissuade the bitter taste of his household.

 

“We travel all over the world in a single night!” The red light from the other room shined more and more, like a ruby on fire. “Can't you understand that?!”

 

“Sure! Keep making excuses! That solves EVERYTHING, doesn't it?!”

 

The noodles grew cold.

 

***

 

The child of ice stood up in his chair, awaiting the evening dinner that Rory had promised him.

 

“Okay, now be careful.” Rory eased the child back down into sitting before setting a bowl of fluffy potato dumplings in front of him.

 

The child pouted a bit but grabbed for one of them.

 

“Oh, hold on.” Rory slipped on some oven mitts and walked over with the pot that still simmered and steamed. “We need one more step before we can eat.” Rory stirred the pot's contents and then ladled out a hearty amount of savory stock, simmered vegetables. And hints of tomato over the dumplings.

 

They floated to the top of the bowl, as if pillows of air, and the child of ice almost wanted to grab one then and there.

 

But he watched Rory set a cup of berry juice next to the bowl before setting up his own plate. By the time he was done, Rory sat down and told the child, “It should be cool enough now. Please, go on and let me know what you think.”

 

The icy child picked up his spoon and got one of the dumplings. He blew on it a little, not so much that it would end up frozen, and popped it into his mouth.

 

The hearty mouthful made his cheeks balloon out and Rory covered his giggle up with a well-placed hand.

 

“Feel free to eat as much as you want. And after, we can open up some Snowfall parcels. How would you like that?”

 

The icy child glanced up Rory's face. His smile was so damn warm and bright, like a gemstone polished by the heart of the earth. He had to look away while popping another dumpling into his mouth.

 

***

 

They had to hunt down each and every plate, and a bowl and who knew what else, all in the name of prepping for dinner.

 

“The plates have all been retrieved and placed upon their appropriate places!” Silveste announced with a proud hoof raised in the air.

 

Zach, bringing over the pot, asked, “Did Blancher and Bruner do it?”

 

“Yes!” Silveste nodded. Zach counted his blessings in that regard. He walked over to the TV and turned it off.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Come on!”

 

“What the hell?”

 

The wave of sudden disgruntlement subsided as the savory scent of a home-cooked meal. “Ooh, that smells really good!” Gahiji bounced over to the kitchen. He found the bowl the size of a wine-tub and sat next to it.

 

“Fucking finally!” Odysseus picked himself up from the couch and took a seat.

 

Suraj gave Fane a playful nudge to the shoulder and turned just before the phantom started burning green in a flush. They both sat down, Fane grumbling and looking away anytime Suraj tried to engage him.

 

Next was Nephubos. Zach gently took away the carton of eggnog from his tentacles and put it back in the fridge.

 

Mira pouted in the main room. “Hey gilipollas! Someone come and get me, you fuckers!”

 

The Mimic fumed. He folded his arms and glared at the floor. That came to an end when his entire chest and being was lifted up by unseen magic. “What the hell?”

 

“Come along, little one.” Abelard chuckled and sent Mira floating over to the table before following behind with his girls. He set Mira down and turned his focus onto getting each of his daughters seated (or floating) at one of the three places next to his own.

 

“Ah, Zachary.” He said when he looked up from his work upon noticing Zach grab drinks from the fridge, “I didn't notice when you got in. Ha--”

 

He sniffed at the air. What was that smell? It was coming from Zach, but...

 

Abelard's eyes narrowed.

 

The scent of some miserable old creature rutting up against young human who deserved far better. His eyes burned, singed with blue and green fire that lapped up from his core and threatened to unleash his magic and rage onto whoever –

 

“Vati!” Beatrisa grabbed at Abelard's arm. The flames extinguished and Abelard looked down at his middle daughter. “Come on! Sit down!”

 

“Ah.” Abelard cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course.”

 

Silveste made it over to the remaining spot at the table. “You two are finding that area suitable, correct?”

 

Blancher and Bruner nodded from where they sat in the main room. Not like they would tell their prince to scoot over anyway.

 

Zach looked around. Drinks were set, everyone had a bowl and utensils. Not that everyone could use them. “Okay.” He lifted the pot and everyone couldn't stop the gasps that flew from them at the sight of fluffy noodles dancing in a creamy, bubbling broth full of peppers and meat. And yet, under all of that, one could still get the sweet hint of whiskey underneath.

 

But the noodles truly were the most catching part. So many danced in the broth, like the stars of the Milky Way. They were shaped as such as well. Each and every noodle had been cut and formed by hand.

 

“Holy shit...” Odysseus muttered as Zach poured some out for him.

 

_ 'They're beautiful...' _  Nephubos said as Zach served him some of the noodles. Zach moved down the table, serving and pouring until everyone, even Blancher and Bruner in the main room, had been tended to.

 

“Alright.” Zach dug in, “Eat up.”

 

Fane poked at the noodles in his bowl and muttered something about 'shitty, normie food' but took a bite anyway.

 

His eye went wide and his words left him.

 

Suraj had taken a sip of the broth and couldn't help the beautiful peal of laughter that broke free from him. “These are great!” He took a larger amount the next time, chewing on a thick piece of meat, “And people in Dama Fristad have this every year?”

 

Zach shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “Every family and household has their own recipe. They're all unique.” He bit into one of the noodles and chewed for a bit. “Actually...”

 

“This recipe is shared by one other house.”

 

***

 

Trillium the Fair blew over a spoonful of star-shaped noodles and creamy broth before taking it in between his lips. He looked around the hidden chamber and saw Akeldama finishing up his own bowl.

 

Well. Finished with the bowl's shadow, anyway.

 

The only one who had yet to finish was Siklon. He had gotten through half of his great bowl.

 

_ “What is the matter, Siklon?” _

 

Siklon didn't respond at first. 

 

_ “Siklon.” _

 

Trillium the Fair called again.

 

Akeldama rubbed his temples. Why was Trillium like this?

 

Siklon finally pushed the noodles aside and moved further into the pool. 

 

**“I'M HEADING OUT.”**

 

_“But we've barely started!”_  

 

Trillium the Fair jumped to his feet and grabbed his staff. 

 

_“Presents have to be exchanged and merrymaking must be shared!”_

 

**“AS I SAID,”**  

 

Siklon insisted, 

 

**“I AM HEADING. OUT.”**

 

Trillium charged forward but Siklon sank into the pool, his body dissolving into the waters and sluicing away.

 

The chamber grew quiet, even as the walls shifted form from water to velvet.

 

Akeldama wanted to leave. But he wouldn't. Not for the music that started up again, not for food.

 

He knew that Trillium the Fair, for all his smiling lips and flowery prose that transcended ages, hated being alone when the world grew cold and winter ceased all.

All, except, for the daffodils that danced with the shades of auroras and shined with gold.

 

***

 

With full stomachs and more than enough to drink, judging from the amount of bottles Zach had collected for recycling, it was just about appropriate for everyone to start retiring for the night.

 

Even Zach was considering leaving the dishes for the following morning while everyone was opening Snowfall parcels.

 

He rolled a crick out of his neck and decided to call it a night.

 

“Zachary.”

 

Zach stopped with one foot just off the floor.

 

“Abelard.” He didn't turn around right away, already having the baritone of the European Wendigo's voice tacked to memory. “How are the girls?”

 

Abelard gave a curt nod. “Sleeping like cherubs. You...” He folded his arms and leaned against the nearest wall, “Have quite a hand with Snowfall Noodles.”

 

Zach turned around. “I guess.”

 

The conversation stilled to a halt after that.

 

1685 Blightblossom was silent.

 

“Zach.”

 

Zach looked up at Abelard using the shorthand of his identity.

 

“I...” Abelard shook his head, “You are... A wonderful young man, Zach. And I hope that you realize that enough to not let anyone...” Abelard turned away, whispering, “Take advantage of you.”

 

Zach watched Abelard retire into his room. That was a good enough sign to go to his own devices.

 

***

 

A surge of water exploded from the pools of Siklon's caverns. As the water rained down in thick sheets, Siklon's body reformed and he looked around with all of his eyes until he saw a sight that finally made some of the tension ease from his shoulders and fins.

 

Izumi had tried waiting up for him, tenacious as ever. But a long day of work and familial stress had finally caught up with him.

 

Siklon lowered and peeked inside of the sleeping cave where Izumi had nested for the evening: safe from any rain or fuss.

 

Siklon, as little as he ate during his visit with Akeldama and Trillium, was feeling tired.

 

Aquacia and the world's oceans would be safe until morning.

 

And, with that thought, he sank into his pool and tried to get some sleep.

 

***

 

Silas had barely eaten any of his mother's Snowfall Noodles. Of course, to her and everyone around, he just wasn't hungry.

 

In his room, careful as to not wake any of his freeloading cousins, he reread Susannah's messages over and over.

 

Why didn't he just send  something  earlier?  Anything ?!

 

Silas turned his phone off and burrowed into his sheets.

 

Maybe not sending anything at all... Was better than the sting of sending something late.

 

***

 

[Even with old Saint Nick doing his final rounds in Dama Fristad while the city slept, Zach wasn't asleep yet.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cm7OP_CI5II&t=74s)  He had almost forgotten to fix the heater but on the right hand it had just needed a good whack to get back into rhythm.

 

On the bad hand, it hadn't helped him to relax in the least bit.

 

Dressed in only a loose pair of sleeping pants, Zach sat upon the space next to his large window.

 

The snow had picked up and his dull eyes watched the flurries outside dance and swirl as fireflies in the night.

 

He took a deep breath. One particular snowflake suddenly got stuck upon the window on the other side and Zach followed it with his finger.

It was stuck.

 

_ “ What is it with that boy?” Some hissing housewife said, pulling her own child closer to herself at the grocery store.  _

_ “ _ _ I offered him some candy and he didn't smile  once !” _

 

Zach pulled his hand away from the window.

 

_ “ Ah..! Oh  my , so many muscles...” Zach had his fingers buried in silken strands that shimmered like the first  _

_ rainbows of Spring. The owner of said vibrant hair chuckled,  _

_ panting out, “But sleeping with you is like bedding a corpse ! _ _Ha ha_ _  – Oh! Ooh, right there~” _

 

He clenched his fingers into a tight fist, just to slowly relax them again. He repeated the process, his eyes still on the window and the growing snowstorm outside.

 

_ A pair of heavy, green hands slammed upon a table; a deep voice roaring out _ _,“_ _ My parents are  DEAD !!” _

 

_ Zach watched the creature in front of him. But his face held nothing but that passiveness.  _

_ The creature, an orc, seethed and stormed over. He seized Zach by the throat and shouted, “ _

_ Do you even care?! I'm over here, mourning and screaming, and you aren't saying  anything !!” _

 

_ “ I'm... sorry.” Zach looked away. His voice was monotonous and his eyes ever listless. _

 

_ The orc glared at him, long and hard. _

 

_ He tossed Zach to the floor. “Grab your shit and get out.” _

 

_ Zach didn't move. _

 

“Stop.” Zach brought his hands together, holding them together tight. “Please. Just stop.”

 

***

 

_ Snowfall is coming and going once again. _

_ I hope that wherever you are when the snow starts blanketing the night is warm, safe, and with others. _

_ Snow. _

_ Ice. _

_ Frost. _

_ When you think about it, they're all clear, blank. They don't have anything to them. They're cold. They don't react. Not outside of being unpleasant, I guess. _

_ But. _

_ Can you think twice? The next time you see snow? The next time you feel ice? _

_ If it can't give back the warmth you give it, it isn't because it doesn't care. If it melts away from you, it isn't because it's disgusted. _

_ It isn't shirking away because of you. _

_ It just. _

_ Can't. _

_ Do anything else. _

_ But. As unpleasant as snow is to be around, as stand-offish as ice seems, as much as Frost chills the bones, isn't it weird? _

_ How snowflakes never fall alone? _

_ How ice forms on top of other pieces of ice? _

_ How frost snaps and pulls through the air. _

_ …  This could all be a bunch of nonsense. But _

_ Sometimes I just _

_ Would really like... _

_ People to think twice _

_ On the Nature _

_ Of Snow and Ice. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three chapters that make up 'Snowfall' were originally published between December 2018 and January 2019 for a holiday event. 
> 
> But, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who has read so far and has been tolerant of this little story popping up in the 'Original Work' tag so constantly. I've been trying to get this story situated into this new home on AO3 and transferring all of the files from my old hosting site has been a bit of an effort. 
> 
> Luckily, we're finally caught up and will be going on a mini-hiatus until the updates for 1685 Blightblossom Lane start up again at the end of April or early May for the beginning of the 2nd Cours. 
> 
> Though... I think there may be one more chapter I can put up until then. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!
> 
> \- Eldritch Grandma


	39. Rex Autem Alcyoneum

* * *

 

 

Six eyes that watch.

Seven hearts that listen.

Siklon was the living guardian of the earth's waters and all who lived within them. As such, he was always connected to each of the world's large water sources. One eye for the Pacific. One eye for the Atlantic. One for the Arctic. One for the Mediterranean. One for the Caribbean. One eye for the Indian. And his hearts for the Depths: the waters undiscovered or tainted by humanity.

His sixth eye shot open.

The Indian.

Siklon, for all his titanic weight and stature bore, quietly slipped away from his slumbering cavern pools. Izumi had stayed over that night – and what a night it had been – and the karasu-tengu was tangled up in a nest of sheets beside the pools.

Siklon let a quiet chuckle roll through his chest.

One of those fearsome claws carefully pulled a blanket up to Izumi's neck. Siklon turned, already sinking into the waters.

“Where...”

Siklon stopped. Izumi sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Where are you going? It's...” He reached for his phone, talons blindly grabbing at air, “It has to be three in the morning.”

Siklon reached out for his tiny love. The tip of his deadly claw just scratched Izumi's head in that gentle way shared between loved ones.

> _** “THIS WON'T BE LONG.”  ** _

Siklon insisted. He sank into the cavern pools after that. Izumi watched, eyes trained in on Siklon's shadows, the reflecting light upon his scales, before he dissolved; whisking away along the currents.

Izumi finally found his phone and, sure enough, he had been right on the dot with the time. “Come back in one piece, Siklon.”

*** 

The storms would start before he regained solid form. Siklon swept through the ocean currents, thousands of voices and emotions reaching out to him. Panic, familiarity. Awe, rage.

He felt his muscles and scales come together just as he passed the Shadowed Kingdom of Madasca and all its awful _QUIET_.

Once his tail and fins had formed, Siklon sliced through the water around him. Further from that Shadowed Kingdom for the better... He moved underneath pods of whales: each of the maritime wonders barely a blip against his expanses of scales. He had a feeling of who and what was causing this specific disturbance. But he needed to get closer to it and further from any innocents who might get caught in the cross-currents.

The dying squall of a hundred maritime creatures melted into the sound of splintering coral and stone.

Siklon saw it now. A squadron of ships, all white against the ocean waves, all flying flags emblazoned with the insignia of a blade and rose crossed over a dragon's skull.

The boats circled a sickly vortex in the churning waves. Being underwater, Siklon narrowed his eyes at the sight of the drill. This one was new. He had torn the last five to pieces and scattered them amongst the waves. The spiraling blades were crafted from volcanic ceramic that, with every rotation and descent, tore into the ocean's floor.

Siklon hissed, mouth creaking open to let heated bubbles seep through rows of teeth.

The drill pulled upward from its latest descent and bled jagged shards of gold coral that glimmered and shined, shrapnel of rock, and liquid black miasma into the surrounding waters.

Siklon's fury boiled and festered and the scales around his neck and along his arms stretched out into brightly glowing lures. His mighty fins flared out over his back.

They breached the water's surface as the sail of coming demise creeping ever forward.

*** 

On the bow of one of the boats, a hand clad in silk and steel armor tapped and pressed at a screen.

27 percent of the quota meant.

The beast had yet to show its miserable maw. Glory to the or--

The alarms burst to life. Off the port bow, something was coming. A storm?

No.

The beast!

From their station, the armored and silkened individual could see their comrades rushing to their stations on the other ships.

The waters split away wherever that massive ridge of shining fins sliced through the seas.

One of the ships screeched to life. One of the armored and silkened forms had activated their line of defense. It was built on the same schematics as a large harpoon-gun, completed by the keen edge that promised a sound gouging. The sparks of blue and white trapped within a leaning canister were a difference.

Each remaining boat repeated the motion, all of the passengers getting into position; taking aim.

Keep your heart steady.

Let not the beasts hear or smell fear.

The mighty fins surged forward and the skies grew thick with clouds and thunder.

An arm clad in silk and armor lifted. This armor was rose gold and the silk was a rosy pink. The ocean's spray speckled salt and brine against the ceramic bloom serving as their face.

The arm swung forward.

One of the harpoon guns cracked when it shot forward towards the beast: blue and white sparks traveling along its shape.

The fin abruptly submerged. The boats rock upon the choppy waves while the assaulting crew frantically tried to pull back their failed mark.

More waves though they were gentle. Where was it? Where the hell was that miserable demon of the sea?!

The water boiled before, in the blink of an eye, the beast's gigantic maw broke through the surface. It snapped shut around three of the boats: the resounding crash heralding the end of their existences and of those upon them.

No.  Why?! They were so close to making quota this time! How had it known that they were here?!

The figure rushed to the harpoon gun on their ship. They struggled to take aim with the beast sinking under the water once more. But it didn't leave. The waters were still bubbling, boiling, and churning; the skies were still dark as coal.

It was then that the whirlpools started spinning in random areas around the remaining boats. The waters inside funneled down fast and strong, glowing tendrils slithering out of the spinning depths and bobbing with the rhythm of the chaotic seas. The rose-masked figure extended their arm and snapped it upward at the elbow.

Retreat.

It was a mad scramble when everyone aboard jumped into the demand. Some surged for the controls, some tied down the salvageable results of that day's venture: the thick sludge of Midnight sloshing around in barrels and the crackled remains of Rex Autem Alcyoneum filling up dozens of crates.

_** CRRRACK! ** _

Two more boats were crunched in the mighty assaulting hand. The clouds were thick blankets, weighing down the air of the area. Two bolts of lightning, one followed by the next, shot into the ocean. The beast had risen.

He lifted his head out of the briny depths and glared down at the remaining vessels with six eyes burning from the side of the mountain of his mass.

All six eyes bore down to one individual. One who truly was naught but a speck in the infinity of his glare.

The figure with the rose mask.

*** 

Siklon reared back. A sea of lights ignited down his neck and he stretched his mouth open with a terrible roar that shook the seas and the heavens above to their bases.

The very noise, the din that encompassed and obliterated everything in its path, lifted the two remaining boats out of the water and sent them flying to who knew or cared where.

Siklon reigned himself back to glare at the vanishing blips of blight. He plunged an arm into the waters and ripped out the drill. The cathedral-sized drill, still leaking the black slick that had been so coveted by those  miserable humans.

Siklon crushed it in his claws. No ceremony. No further consideration.

They didn't deserve it.

However...

Siklon dipped beneath the calming waves to see an entire slew of sea turtles, whales, dolphins, and even a few distraught sharks.

He knew what they were looking at, what they were uneasy on. The drilling had ruined what little habit and home they had.

The Rex Autem Alcyoneum, that shining, golden coral, was one of the few things that kept regular fishermen and mankind's blight at bay. Already the Midnight, pitch darkness mined from far beneath the ocean floor, was drifting out and choking what life remained.

Siklon narrowed his eyes at the spewing wound in the ocean. Not wasting anymore time, he opened his maw and reached inside. He didn't wince, flinch, or hiss when he plucked out two of his own teeth. He pressed one into the drill-hole, stopping the flow of toxins. The other he mounted on the remains of a worn stone spire.

Rex Autem Alcyoneum... His Majesty's Coral.

Said King... was right there, gracing this ocean with his being. He exhaled a wash of water over the discarded teeth. They cracked, split right down the middle and

Bloomed.

Coral made the trees and flowers of the ocean, transforming the hidden depths into an otherworldly orchard.

Before the transformation was even complete, the creatures of the sea surged forth and began inspecting their surroundings. The ability to start over truly was a blessing only the sea could give. Siklon watched on until the coral slowed down its growth. He exhaled steam and spray before sinking down into the oceanic abyss.

*** 

The caverns quaked with the tempo of a wartime drum. Siklon pierced the waters, steam leaving his maw and water spraying to every surface near and far. His blood was still thrumming hot from the conflict on the seas.

Humanity... He closed all six of his eyes. 

> _** “THE URGE IS GREATER THAN IT SHOULD BE... IT WOULD BE SO SIMPLE.” ** _

Six eyes opened. 

> _** “I TRULY WOULD BE THE BEAST THAT THEY FEAR THEN.” ** _

 

_ “ But what happens to the rage once it dies down? Once everything has been torn apart and the ashes drowned?  _

_ What then, great one?” _

 

“You're back.”

Siklon was torn away from words of the past to his current present. A flutter of feathers and the beating of wings preceded Izumi flying up to rest on his nose.

“Are you alright?”

Siklon nodded, not too quickly as to not send Izumi flying.

“Any cuts? Bruising? Let me check--”

> _** “IZUMI...”  ** _

Siklon sighed, slowly sinking into the cavern's pool. He stopped when the was submerged to his chest and Izumi hopped off. 

> _** “DO YOU THINK SO LITTLE OF THE GUARDIAN OF SEAS?” ** _

Izumi shook his head, “It isn't a matter of thinking little of you.” He didn't want to go further than that. He knew what Siklon did anytime he left the haven of Dama Fristad.

Instead, he asked, “Shouldn't Princess Holokai manage the affairs of the seas?”

 

Laced-up naval boots stood, tall and strong, on the bow of a great ship slicing through the seas.

The tip of an ivory cutlass, its handle carved from Rex Autem Alcyoneum, was stabbed into the floor: waves crashing against the ship and water spraying all around.

 

Siklon shrugged the thought off. Princess Holokai had an entire floating nation to worry about. Besides, Siklon didn't mind teaching humans their place. He just wish they would finally start learning.

> _** “ARE YOU DUE AT THE STATION TODAY?” ** _

Izumi sighed, walking to his 'bed' of pillows and blankets, “Not until mid-noon.”

> _** “THEN SET ASIDE THOUGHTS OF STORMS,”  ** _

Siklon waited for Izumi to lay back down before puffing up the pillows and pulling up the blankets with a menacing claw, 

> _** “AND THE HUMANS WHO DESERVE TO PERISH WITHIN... AND SLEEP.” ** _

As he pulled his claw back, Izumi reached out for it. Siklon stopped, letting Izumi give an affectionate peck. He was finally able to pull away and reclined in the cavern pools.

Six eyes that watched.

One heart that listened.

One old deity to worship and adore the small bird in front of him.


	40. 1685 Blightblossom Direct - Summer 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is that Summer Direct I promised a few chapters ago. It goes over upcoming events, gives a beginner-friendly breakdown of the series, and serves as a bit of an update in of itself.


	41. The Raven and the Faun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the hiatus is finally over! 
> 
> Let's nudge on into the flow of things with a simpler sort of chapter. We haven't heard from the owners of Dama Fristad's premier sex-shop, have we?

* * *

 

 

A figure clad in a heavy black sweatshirt walked through the aisles of Eros and Mine. The hood pulled tight over his face but was unable to cover his dark beak. He passed shelves and rows of ointments, lubricants, and edible paints, but he was looking for one thing in particular.

He reached black talons to the needed spot but...

“No... Come on, _no_!” The black beak clacked against itself. “This _can't_ be happening..!”

“Hey Officer Oshiro.” Risco the faun quipped out, walking by and chomping away at an eclair full of thick, rosy berry cream.

The hooded figure gulped. “Who? What..? I have no idea who you're --” He scoffed at his own nonsense, yanking his hoodie back and revealing the visage of DFPD's shining star. “How did you know it was me?”

Risco finished off his eclair and wiped his mouth with his ascot. “Boy, I'd recognize those glossy tail feathers of yours anywhere! Not to mention...” He sniffed at the air and immediately waved a hand in front of his face, “Whoo, boy, you _reek_! Do you take three showers a _day_ in his jizz or wha--”

Izumi's feathers flurried up, turning the karasu-tengu into a poof-ball of indignation.

“Do you worship the guardians with that mouth?!” Izumi squawked out, only for Risco to grin,

“Actually, when I managed to get an invite to Trillium the Fair's Winter Summit Orgy two years back --”

Izumi shook his head, smoothing his feathers back down. “No, no! Never mind, forget that I asked. Can you tell me --”

Mo Chou walked to the counter and looked around. “Oh!” The Mantida giggled behind one of her blades, “Hello Officer Oshiro. How are you...” She trailed off, wincing a bit at the pungent smell coming from him. She giggled again, “I see things are still going well with Siklon.”

Izumi groaned. He wished that the floor would cave in, even with the knowledge of his survivor's instinct being far too powerful to let him die from such a thing.

He rested his hand upon the empty spot on the shelf. “Are you currently out of stock on this?”

“Huh?” Risco clopped over and took a long look at the tag. “What's that? The Cum-My-Lady-Cum-Cum-My-Lady Cleansing Shampoo?”

Izumi squawked again. “Yes, _that_! Can you please not talk so loudly?!”

Risco hugged the corner of the nearest shelf and shouted, “Hey! Baby-girl, we got any of the Cum-Cum Shampoo?”

“Which one?”

“The one to get cum and jizz and spunk out of your hair and the scent off your body!”

“ _Oh_!” Mo Chou called back, “The Cum-My-Lady-Cum-Cum-My-Lady Cleansing Shampoo?”

“That's the one!” Risco said with a smile.

Meanwhile, Izumi was wishing more and more that he could just keel over and die. Mo Chou walked over and regarded the empty spot. “I think we sold our last bottle to Zeus when he came by.”

Risco shook his head, whistling low, “That's a damn shame...”

Izumi agreed. Pulling his hoodie back over his head, he said, “I'll just have to try vinegar and le --”

“Hang on!” Risco grabbed the young police captain. “Boy, I ain't 'bout to have you leave here empty handed! Baby-girl!”

Mo Chou walked back to the counter to bring out a ceramic bowl, a pestle, and a small crate of herbs and extracts. “I should have just enough...” She carefully tipped the crate out and took count of all the contents. She nodded to herself. “I'll just need thirty minutes.”

“Perfect!” Risco urged Izumi towards one of the tables. “Now, you take a seat right there and _I'm_ gonna grab more eclairs and some coffee.”

Izumi stood right back up to bow. “Please, you don't have to put yourself out like this. I can just come back later.”

Risco dipped into the backroom and peeked his head out. He glared over at Izumi, Izumi not knowing whether he should glare back or sit down. Risco kept up his glare until he asked, “Are you a coffee or a tea guy?”

Izumi looked between the faun and the Mantida. He sighed, sitting back down. “I don't do well with caffeine. Green tea, please, if you have it.”

Risco's glare vanished into a grin and he shot back to who knew where. He pulled his hoodie down, unruffled his feathers and redid the bun he had his long hair in.

“Here!” Risco had come back and slammed some icy green concoction in front of Izumi. “Had enough for a nice icy matcha whatever.” Izumi kept his unease under a neutral expression as Risco slammed down the plate of berry eclairs.

“You really... didn't _have_ to--”

“But I did.” Risco insisted, “Go on, drink up!”

Izumi sighed when the futility of the situation kicked in and _hard_. The drink, on further inspection, didn't seem to be too bad. Some kind of milk, matcha, and something sweet mixed with ice. The worst thing about it had to be the splotches of powder and something sticky on the sides of the glass.

'He was nice enough to put in a straw...' Izumi took a sip, grinding his beak a bit. “Oh, it's good.”

“Hey, now,” Risco leaned back in his chair, “Mo Chou may be the one who puts the motions in the potions --”

“Risco, _stop~_!” Mo Chou giggled as she mixed the shampoo's base.

Risco went on, “But I can still mix a pretty damn fine drink.”

Izumi quietly agreed. He reached for an eclair, that much closer to just relaxing.

“So...” Risco's grin was all teeth, “How often does Siklon make your bed rock?”

The rest of the eclair falls from Izumi's beak. His eyes grow blow wide and his beak wavers uselessly around silent syllables.

“Come on...” Risco's smirk doesn't go anywhere. “You wouldn't be here trying to get the smell of fish-cum out of your hair if you two weren't goin' at it like rabbits. Come on, shoot.”

“I plead the fifth!” Izumi jumped up from his chair and rushed towards the door.

 

“I'm only teasin' you, damn...”

Risco sat the karasu-tengu back down and pushed the abandoned glass back into his hand. He had to wait for the feathers to smooth back down before he could really say that things had calmed down. Mo Chou was carefully stirring in the needed oils of oregano, frankincense, and chamomile.

Izumi took a deep breath and tried drinking the rest of the tea in his glass. The sweet taste would calm him, it had to.

Risco scratched at his horns. Almost time for a polishing at the salon. Maybe he would get them to touch up his hair while he was there. Looking pretty wasn't easy for such a fine hunk of faun. He chuckled, “Serious, though, has he been treatin' you right? Goldenrod Bond workin' fine?”

Izumi jumped up but Risco was quick to grab one of his wings. “No, come on. Talk to me!”

“I know, I know. It's just,” Izumi sat back down, “Japanese... Both humans and nonhumans from Akatsuki, we don't talk about _that_ in public.”

Risco lifted an eyebrow and leaned into his forearm on the table. “Boy! If you don't realize where you are!”

Izumi finished off his drink and looked around. Yes, that was right: Eros and Mine. The place where humans and nonhumans came to seek out aids in the pleasurable, aided by two creatures who had nothing resembling judgment in their hearts.

Izumi swirled his straw through the foamy residue remaining in his glass. “He's the only one who makes me feel small. Wait, no.” Izumi shook his head, “That's not the right word.”

 

He was in charge of so many aspects in life. He was his parents' shining beacon of perfection and excellence. Sometimes it even seemed as though his little brother only saw him as an idol: something to aspire to but not to interact with.

Izumi had always been made to stand tall, taller than his means for the sake of that perfect standard. Even here in Dama Fristad, he had become one of the DFPD's most skilled captains at such a young age.

He often felt himself spiraling, in those first few months. He was going to crash and burn; splinter into a thousand slivered pieces. He doesn't know what he would have done if it hadn't been for those words.

> _**“FAR FROM YOUR NEST AREN'T WE, LITTLE BIRD?”** _

Siklon was the only one in this damaged world-over who seemed to see him as both a great strength and a small soul. So the notion of Izumi finding a haven in those giant claws, in the violent flash of teeth, in the several eyes that stared upon his minuscule state with something in the vein of adoration that danced in kindness.

 

And all of that didn't even delve into the sex. Really, the Goldenrod Bond had been both a blessing and a curse. It allowed that special, carnal union to finally be a possibility rather than a ridiculous notion. However, it also allowed for that far more salacious, forever secret to public eye piece of Izumi's personality to come out, as well as allowing Siklon to slice slivers away from his mountains of urges and frustrations.

 

_Hot._

_And slick._

_Izumi's hands twitched everytime the tip of Siklon's massive tongue washed over him. The sweet smell of the Arctic Ocean was cloying, floating a foot thick above the karasu-tengu. His clothing lay crumpled upon the floor: carelessly tossed away in pursuit of the boiling fire Siklon had fed into him with but a gaze._

_Siklon licked again. There was a smile upon his maw, his tongue stiffening to lather the downy feathers on Izumi's chest. Izumi tossed his head back. He reached for his own chest and searched through the feathers to tweak at the hardened nipples underneath. Siklon licked him down from the base of his neck, down_

_Down to his groin; staying there, pressed right up against his already aching hard-on. “Siklon, no...” Izumi panted. He planted his talons into the sheets and used the leverage to buck his hips up: fucking up against the slick surface._

_Despite the sheer expanse of his mouth, his tongue, Siklon could taste down to the smallest measure. Including the precursor dribbling off of Izumi's dick: slightly bitter, surprisingly sweet amongst the under layer of salt._

“ _Si...” Izumi panted, licking his beak. Sweat poured down his face, rolling off of those flawless black feathers. “Siklon... Please...”_

> _**“LITTLE BIRD...”** _

_Siklon rumbled, removing his tongue despite the indignant caw that he received._

> **_“I'M SHOCKED AT YOU... A LITTLE ROUGH PETTING AND YOU LOSE YOUR PATIENCE. YOUR POISE.”_ **

_Izumi tossed his head back, keening out again. He was right. Gods, the magnificent creature looming above him was right. The blazing fire, the roaring waves of his desire for Siklon as well as the loaded breaths from the leviathan above were dissolving his senses. Oh, he could just feel the hearts in his eyes... He wanted to let go of his refined demeanor, his polite words. Almost... Almost..._

“ _Siklon..!” Izumi keened out, eyes hazy as he looked up at his giant lover. He spread his legs, his cock twitch and dripping obscenely onto his glossy feathers. “Please. Please, I can't stand it. Let me have it – please, do whatever you want. Fuck... me~!”_

_Siklon's chuckle rumbles through the cavern._

> **_“WHO AM I TO DENY SUCH A FERVENT REQUEST..?”_ **

_He reaches into one of the caves nearby, pulling out the conduit for his half of the Goldenrod Bond: Izumi already having the accompanying band on his arm._

> _**“I HAVE TO WONDER...”** _

_Siklon rumbled, six eyes roving over Izumi's trembling body,_

> **_“_ _IF YOU REALIZE HOW MOUTH-WATERING YOU ARE TO ME... YOUR SCENT IS HEAVY ON MY SENSES, LIKE A SPRING HEAT. THE NOISES YOU MAKE, THAT YOU ONLY LET ME HEAR...”_ **

_Izumi's heart sped up at the slick sound of scales separating to show..._

 

“And done!” Mo Chou set a large glass bottle of bright blue fluid onto the table. Izumi had to think twice; had to settle himself down from his thoughts and memories.

It was his day off.

He needed the special shampoo that got rid of the overbearing scent of Siklon's... Siklon's...

“You know,” Mo Chou piped up, “If you ever were to collect some of Siklon's semen, I'm certain it has all sorts of benefits to it!”

Izumi, who had reached into his wallet for money to pay for the shampoo, stopped. He tilted his head. “I beg your pardon?”

Risco stepped over to his leggy love and added, “Yeah... In some places, ain't that shit a delicacy?”

Mo Chou nodded. “And regular applications can be really good for your hair. Though...” She giggled behind one of her blades, “I guess the scent would be pretty potent after a while.”

Izumi slammed several bills onto the table. He pulled his hoodie back over his burning face and grabbed the bottle.

“Th-thank you for your service! Have a good day!!”

Risco and Mo Chou watched Izumi until the chimes of the front door rang out with his departure. Mo Chou leaned over and rested her head upon Risco's, who responded,

“He's _got_ to be an absolute _demon_ in the sack. The professional ones always are.”

Mo Chou hummed, “Siklon is hopefully getting a lot of use out of their Goldenrod Bond, then.”

They stood there for several minutes, Risco bringing one of Mo Chou's blades closer so he could give it a little kiss.

The door chimed as it opened, Risco and Mo Chou calling over, “Welcome to _Eros and Mine_! How can we help you with your pleasures?”

 


	42. Emerald Racket

 

* * *

 

 

“Your exercise today!” Chef Ernest announced, stomping onto the ground and shaking the classroom. The secondary effect, of course, was shaking down small cushioned baskets from their ceiling shelves. Within each basket, in the center of a plush pillow of velvet, were oblong shapes that sparkled like diamonds.

No. Not _like_ diamonds.

They _were_ –

“Diamond Egg Pavlova!” Said Chef Ernest, “Diamond Eggs are the rarest, most delicate treasures from the great Misery Bird of the West. The eggs themselves can make amazing things but they can also turn rancid as goat piss if you even look at them funny.”

Chef Ernest walked through the aisles of his class, glaring and sneering, “I'm already expecting half of you nitwits to fuck this up.”

Chef Ernest continued with his biting words and limited instruction. Silas was listening, really he was, but his attention was being tugged at by something.

Someone.

Who was right next to him, in fact.

Silas glanced to his left where Susannah's face was cold and stony like the last apple of Autumn.

She felt him staring and gave a huff, moving her chair a few inches away.

Damn it, why didn't he text her back during Snowfall break?!

'Susannah, can we t--'

“BEGIN!” Chef Ernest shouted, sending the classroom into a flurry of activity.

'Wait, huh?!' Silas looked around, suddenly in a panic as he saw everyone around him get to work. He had completely blanked out while worrying about Susannah being upset! Silas snatched up the recipe booklet next to him and leafed through the pages.

There were 8 pages dedicated to opening the egg alone, what the fuck?!

'Uh...' He gingerly signed, 'Susannah..?'

“Mm.” Susannah huffed. She was holding her Misery Bird egg against the counter and gently running a salt spoon around its middle.

Silas would have whined out his dismay if he could have. As it was, he did a quick glance around the classroom.

Matvey and Saccharin were already whipping the creamy yolk of the Misery Bird egg into a thick cream. Several other groups were already bemoaning their misfortune at the poor results of their efforts.

“YOU!” Chef Ernest slammed his hand down onto the counter, nearest to the naga. “What the hell are ya staring at?! Get to work before I flunk you for the day!!”

Silas winced and grabbed the remaining egg on the table. He ran a spoon around the base. His fingers were trembling so much, the spoon clattered to the table several times.

On the third run around, the egg opened. Silas rushed to pour the contents into a bowl but ended up allowing several jagged pieces of the shell to fall in his haste.

Where was the recipe? What did he have to do next?

Silas grabbed for the recipe booklet. It slipped from his hands. Silas hissed and dropped to the floor, frantically grabbing for the needed instructions. But, like the fabled gates of El Dorado, they escape his grasp by scant inches every time.

Susannah has to force herself to keep to the task at hand. She was... still upset, after all.

“HALF AN HOUR!” Chef Ernest barked out, sending the classroom into a final burst of activity. Silas seized the booklet and slapped it open.

He glanced over at Susannah. Was she still mad at him?!

He was running out of time. Boil? He could... He could microwave, right?

No time – no time to cream sugar and vanilla, he could just use vanilla syrup! That would work, right?

Why was she still mad?

_Right?!_

“Shit!” Susannah looked at the miserable pile of bubbles that her pavlova had turned into during baking. At least it had a proper creamy color. She could... cover it up with berries and lemon curd.

She turned to get started on those toppings and saw Silas, standing silent in front of his ingredients.

He was.

Frozen.

“What the hell...” Susannah set her work aside. “Are you okay, honey?” Her anger at him was all but gone now. “Hey.” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Silas!”

“TIME!”

Susannah tore her attention back to her unfinished pavlova. Well, it was finished. Just not... decorated.

Let's go with that.

“Present your work.” Chef Ernest ordered, “Hurry up! We don't have all day to wallow in yer failures!”

Susannah pursed her ruby lips and covered Silas's bowl of darkening egg yolk with the recipe booklet. She shoved her pavlova to the front of their counter, in between both of them.

And then she waited, hoping that there was a project awful enough to overshadow... whatever this could be called.

Chef Ernest walked up to the first team and took one look at their burnt pavlovas before slapping the dish to the floor. “'F'.”

The next pair of attempts looked right but, as soon as Chef Ernest tried pressing into them with his spoon, their true natures became clear.

“IDIOTS!” Chef Ernest seized both desserts and hurled them to the floor, the heavy, concrete-esque confections leaving dents in the floor. “These are more like rocks than anything!!”

“We're sorry..!” One of the duo sobbed, the other insisting,

“We followed your directions but the meringue came out of the oven like this!”

“YOU OVERBEAT IT LIKE A TEENAGER WHO JUST DISCOVERED JERKING OFF! 'F'!”

From attempts that jiggled like jelly, were spoiling where they 'stood', and some that fell apart as dust in the wind at the mere mention of a spoon, Chef Ernest was losing his patience.

“Alright.” He looked down at Matvey and Saccharin's covered plates. “Get on with the disappointment.”

The Matryochik and the Gummy Fiend shared a look. They smirked and tore the covers away. The brilliant flashes of light were so bright that everyone had to shield their eyes until the revealed sweets settled. Susannah slowly moved her hand away from her eyes and, honestly, wished that she hadn't. “You gotta to be shitting me.” She whispered. Silas said nothing. He was still frozen but she was was stricken quiet by the sight of meringue that sparkled like crystal at midnight. The glazed pieces of fruit, cut into stars that caught the light of the kitchen, only served to exacerbate the beauty of the main dish.

The elegance of both plates had stricken everyone dumb. Even Chef lifted an eyebrow in favor of keeping his words to himself.

Chef took a spoonful. He moved it from left to right, noting the delicate sways of the marshmallowy delight, before taking a bite.

Still, he was quiet.

He took a bite from the second plate and set his spoon down.

No one wanted to let their gasps be heard as some of the anger left the elf's face. He was still stern.

“I'll be blown and tied,” Chef Ernest shook his head, “Someone in this fucking class is actually showing some progress.”

Saccharin giggled, clapping their sticky feelers together.

“My thanks, Chef.” Matvey bowed his head, hiding the leer that he shot over to Susannah.

Chef Ernest made it over to Silas and Susannah's table. “Ya only have one plate.”

“We...” Susannah saw that Silas was still frozen. “Decided to focus on one dessert and work together.”

Chef Ernest looked at Silas. “That's a load of shit, isn't it?”

 

 

And, thus, the succeeding proceedings were stricken from record. Because you don't need to be an oracle to know what happened.

***

“Boy!” Susannah dragged Silas's still frozen body out to the hallway after class had ended for the day.

They both had glaring red 'F's on their transcripts now and she was determined toe figure out what the hell the naga was trying to get at.

She forced him down onto a bench. “What is goin' on in that head of yours?! Huh?!”

Silas cracked back into motion. His fingers were a flurry as he asked, as he begged:

'Are you still mad at me?!'

Susannah blinked.

Tilted her head.

Shook it.

Her mouth quirked open and shut, dancing like a fish on shore. _“What?”_

'I'm sorry I didn't text you back!' Silas continued, forcing his eyes shut to stow away the fattening tears. 'My mom was watching me like a hawk and she hates me talking to anyone besides her and the family on holidays! I had a message typed up and –'

“Silas...”

'I have the text I was going to send still saved! I just didn't know when the right time to try again was and then, by the time I could get back to 1685, I didn't think you would still –'

“Silas.”

'Want it and I just... With how pissed off you were in class, I don't ever want to be the one to make you upset--”

“Silas, would ya stop?!”

Silas opened his eyes and was gifted with the most pitiful look. The type that makes your stomach grow tight and pull down.

Susannah sighed. She folded her arms and said, “Yeah, okay, I was a little bit miffed at ya for not answerin' me. But for you to be so scared of how I would take a late text? It's not your fault, shit happens, okay? Honey, what kind of tower have you been locked up in your whole life?”

'I...' Silas had barely moved his fingers for that one word before Susannah sat down next to him and laid long, jean-covered legs over his lap.

“Now, we gotta talk.” Susannah looked at her nails. She knew that the naga would be far too gone from the close contact (and, indeed, he was practically salivating: his claws twitching with the need to touch and the control not to). “Reckon we both need something to get our minds off of this tore up day we just had.”

'I'm sorry. Again.' Silas signed in order to keep his hands busy, though his eyes still climbed up Susannah's legs, down to her ankles, and up again.

“I got it.” Susannah snapped her fingers and stood up. Silas deflated a little at the loss of contact, but he was stiff as a board when Susannah announced, “You ever been down to Emerald Racket?”

Silas shook his head.

Susannah's grin spread across her ruby-painted lips. “Well, honey, you're takin' me tonight. I'll text ya the address and I want ya to meet me there at 9:30 on the dot tonight. Got it?”

***

Silas had agreed wholeheartedly. But it was only when he got home did he feel a little in over his head.

Like.

10,000 leagues over his head.

He was halfway through a Swiss and ham sandwich (with bread he had baked himself the other day) when Gahiji bounced into the scene. “Hey you!” Gahiji peeked over Silas's shoulder, shaking him, “You seem down. Ooh, I know! There's a place! In Aquacia! That makes really yummy Icing Flowers out of sugar and ice and sweet milk! We should go!”

'Maybe another time.' Silas finished off his sandwich. 'Hey, Gahiji?'

“Mm?” The Sphinx stopped bouncing long enough to listen.

'Have you ever been to Emerald Racket?'

“Oh, yeah!” Gahiji nodded, “That's one of ShimmerGale's most popular nightclubs! I like Goldendoodle's in El Doradus a bit more, but – Ooh, are you going tonight?” He lifted his paw to hide half of his grin, “Do you have a date~?”

'N-no!' Silas flailed about. His tail went straight as a board until he forced himself to calm down. 'I'm just... meeting a classmate there tonight. But, since its a club—'

Gahiji's eyes flashed and he jumped in, “You're wondering what to wear!”

'Well...' Silas sighed. 'Yeah. I've never gone to something like this. Plus... she's still mad at me.'

Silas's phone buzzed at his hip and he quickly grabbed it. 

Susannah, who was busy going through her dresses, snapped, "Boy, you better not be lyin' on me!!'

Silas texted back a quick 'I'm not I swear.' But was dragged off and away to Gahiji's bedroom. 'Wait, what are we doing?'

“I'm helping you to get ready for your date!”

'It isn't a da--!'

But the door was slammed shut right on the last visual syllable.

Mira, who had been waiting for the background noise to hurry up and die, popped his headphones on. “Ugh, finally.” He turned on his laptop and grabbed his controller.

The intro screen for the arena-shooter he was trying to play booted up and his dive into an intense session was interrupted by a certain voice asking, “Are you the only one in right now?”

“Fucking serious?” Mira didn't even look up from the screen to give Zach a response. “Gahiji and double-dicks were just here. Why didn't you bother them then?”

“Hm.” Zach waited. “Look, can you tell everyone that I'm going out tonight? If anyone needs anything, they can text?”

“Quetzalcoatl's balls~!” Mira groaned, “Yes, fine, whatever! Can you go away already?”

Zach adjusted the lapels on his vest. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

***

Emerald Racket was hewn from winding willows that wicked and weaved in the 10 o'clock evening breeze. There was a line of humans and nonhumans waiting in line outside of the golden branches that pulled the focus and flow of club-goers to the venue.

“So,” Susannah said inside, grabbing a tall glass of Angel Lift – which had the cognac, orange rum, cream, and vanilla of a Milk Punch, but had shredded angel feather on top. “Glad that you came out yet?”

Silas wasn't the biggest fan of the music vibrating through the floor, up his tail, and around his spine.

The bouncer on duty had given him a bit of a hard time, too. (“Are you sure that a hatchling like you is down for a place like this?”)

He readjusted the collar of the army green turtleneck Gahiji had helped him to pull out. 'It's kind of... busy, isn't it?'

“Of course!” Susannah sipped at her drink. She crossed her legs, one over the other despite her dress being a short little number that only went down to mid-thigh. “I can't imagine what kind of country-club this place would be if music wasn't blastin' away.”

Of course, by this point she had noticed how Silas was only nursing away at a simple beer. The slim line of his mouth didn't have her hyped up, either.

“Loosen _up_ , honey!” She smacked him in the shoulder. Finishing off her drink, she jumped off her chair and started dragging Silas to the dance-floor. “Come on, dance with me!”

'I don't know how to dance!' Silas wished he had feet to dig into the ground. But, willingly or no, Susannah pushed the both of them into the middle of the gyrating crowd; the music even louder there, if possible.

Up on the club's main stage which was cut and polished from a mighty oak, the DJs on duty changed songs. The new song was more even and the beat more pleasant, but it still didn't reassure Silas once Susannah started dancing.

Even if the twist and dip that her hips made, combined with the flicks and pumps of her arms in the air, pulled his attention away from his discomfort.

She mouthed out 'come on', knowing that shouting over music on the dance-floor wouldn't do anything.

What was it about Susannah that made him want to just jump out of his skin? Silas opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

He slipped his tail away from someone's hoof about to crush it and, well, he

Decided

To

Try.

A simple sway from left to right. When he felt a little braver, he lifted his arms and moved them left and right as he tried to get a hold of the beat.

Susannah grinned at the sight of the naga finally making an effort. She decided to, you know, reward him a little. She got closer to him and took his arms to wrap around her shoulders.

Close contact, close contact, Silas felt his scales shifting faster with the beat of his heart.

Susannah turned around and smirked. Then she ground her ass right up against Silas and he thought he was going to end up getting arrested for indecent exposure right then and there.

'S-Susannah?!'

“Shh...” She leaned back and whispered right into his ear. “Humor me until this song's over, honey...”

Silas stayed stone-still, brain firing on all synapses.

'Wait.' He asked himself. 'Why am I thinking so damn hard about this? Why can't I just have fun?'

This wasn't a date or anything. And Susannah had invited him out to relax, right?

Susannah blinked when she felt Silas's hold around her got that much stronger. She felt him moving both of their bodies along with the music and, though the motions were still a little shaky, she smirked.

Oh, this night just got interesting.

***

'What's this?' Silas signed when, after two more songs, they had gone back to to bar. Susannah had ordered him a drink this time. It was in a wide glass and the shaved ice in it sparkled with pink, purple, and red.

“It's a Helen of Troy.” Susannah pushed the drink over to Silas. “It's gonna be a _little_ stronger than that beer you were sippin' at, but I think you'll like it.”

Silas almost entertained the thought of 'how am I getting home tonight?' and 'how strong is this?'

But, no, fuck that. He needed to be more wild, he needed to enjoy life.

He was finally out of that house, out of his nest.

Silas picked up the Helen of Troy and downed half of it. Immediately regretting it, not due to the strength of the liquor in the drink but because of the ice immediately chilling his core. 'Shit, that's... wow.'

Susannah tossed her head back, blonde curls bouncing back and forth. “Take it easy, honey!”

'No, no! It's good!' Silas drank some more, shivering, 'The ice, cold-blooded...'

Susannah blinked but her lips curled up in a slower grin. “Oh. Okay. Guess we're gonna have to get you warmed up. Hey, bartender! Two more Helen of Troys over here, honey!”

***

Two more Helen of Troys became six more as the night went on. And after one more attempt at the dance-floor, that resulted in Silas nearly keeling over, it was obvious who was the lightweight.

“Have you never partied before or what?” Susannah's words were sharp around the edges as she helped Silas to one of the empty leaf couches near the back of the club.

Silas groaned when he felt the cool crushed velvet texture of the leaves beneath him.

Susannah watched the naga moved his fingers, the small gestures only resulting in nonsense. “Boy, you is a cork high and three bottles deep!” Susannah cackled, falling onto the couch right next to Silas.

The lights of a dozen or so pixies streaked and shot through the air above the club.

Humans and nonhumans walked too and fro around the tables and leaf couches. Club etiquette in ShimmerGale was fond of letting people do as they pleased as along as they stayed out of people's way and sight.

'I...'

Susannah lifted her head and rested it on the tipsy naga's chest.

“Damn, you are too buff for your own good, honey...”

Fingers easing up and down over the sensitive scales, even covered by his sweater as he was.

The branches of the ceiling twisted, swerved around the spurring stars and the glowing lights. Silas felt nauseous.

Swallow.

Okay.

'Are you having fun?'

“Mm-hm...”

'Good.' Silas's fingers had his words coming out slower and slower. 'Susannah?'

“Mm?”

A tooth-fairy major strolled by, talking loudly on his phone; checking in on his tooth-fairy minor wife.

'I've never done anything like this before.”

A giggle. “From the way you were on the floor, I think anyone can tell.”

Still, Silas went on. 'No. No, I mean anything like this. Going out, having fun, being with...' His hands fell to his tail. Lifting them up once more took some strain. 'Can I tell you something?'

“Mm.”

Silas glanced down at where Susannah was watching him from under hooded eyes. 'When I was, ugh, six maybe? I really wanted to go to this children's event in the park. It wasn't even anything special: just games and terrible food. But one of the event sponsors had handed me a ticket while I was at the supermarket with my mom. She wanted to tear it up the second I asked.'

His chest trembled with a slow, sad chuckle. 'I still really wanted to go. My mom never let me do anything, especially if it meant going out without her. So...'

 

***

'… I snuck out.'

_All tail and twiggy arms, Silas slithered up and out of his bedroom window. The ticket was safely tucked into the pocket of one of the over-sized sweatshirts his mother insisted on filling his wardrobe with._

_Landing provided some troubles, Silas falling into a pile of leaves and sticks dried from a warm Autumn sun._

“ _Ow...” The little naga whined, rubbing at his tail. It was probably going to leave a bruise... That was the last thing that he needed: a bruise to upset his mom._

_Silas stood up and looked towards his bedroom window. His body felt light. He had done that. And now, he was going to go play with other kids._

_Silas slithered away from his house. What were the other kids going to be like? Would they play hide-and-seek? Tag? His tongue flicked out as he imagined what kind of treats would be there. The ticket had little silver stencil markings of Fairy Floss, Crimson Cake, and even moon-bunny marshmallows._

_He bumped into something warm and sweet-smelling, with the slightest twang of cooking oil. Silas rubbed at the his arms and tail, whining._

“ _Silas...”_

_The whines shriveled up like leaf in a desert storm._

“ _Sweetheart...”_

_The little naga lifted his head and was blinded by a chilled smile and bright eyes._

“ _What are you doing outside, sweetheart?” Charlotte asked, voice light and airy, countenance cold and dark._

_Silas couldn't say a word._

“ _Did you...” Charlotte's smile stretched over rows of hypodermic needles. “Fall out of bed?”_

“ _I--”_

“ _Of course, that's it.” Charlotte slithered close and grabbed Silas by the arm. She didn't hear his whimpers. She didn't feel him desperately pulling against her as she dragged him towards the house. “You fell. That's what happened. Isn't it, sweetheart?”_

“ _Mom, it hurts!” Silas cried._

“ _You wouldn't dare to disobey your mommy, would you, sweetheart?” Charlotte pulled Silas inside and slammed the door behind them. “Not the mommy who loves you so much. The mommy who feeds you, cleans you, takes care of you...”_

_Raleigh, in the living room, sank further behind his newspaper._

_Her claws were digging into his scales, lifting some of them up from his flesh and making small drops of red seep out._

_A tiny gasp leapt from Silas when he saw they had reached his bedroom. He was lifted into the air, the blood from his arm dripping down onto Charlotte's pink sweater._

“ _And this time, sweetheart,” Charlotte kissed her precious baby's forehead, “When I put you in your room, you need to stay there until I come to get you out. Okay?”_

“ _But I just wanted to play with the other kids!” Silas sobbed, eyes washing over with salty trails._

_Charlotte said nothing else that would mar that smile. She opened the door and tossed Silas in. Not even waiting for the 'thump' of a body hitting the floor, she slammed it shut and locked it up tight._

_She had already removed all of the light bulbs so there was nothing else to busy-body with._

“ _Dinner's almost done, sweetheart~” She beamed, slithering back down the hall amongst the din of tiny fists beating at the door. “I'll bring you some as soon as it's just right.”_

“ _Mom!” Silas screamed, his tiny voice ignored despite the way it rang through the house. “Mom, please! I'm sorry! Please, mom, I wanna come out! Please let me out! MOMMY..!”_

***

Back in the club, Susannah had sobered up almost instantly.

“Silas.” She shook her head, mouth slack and eyes like saucers. “Honey, what... on earth...”

'It's okay...' Silas signed, the daze of being drunk fading and the numbness of intoxication building. 'I know better now. I guess that's why,' He eased himself out from underneath Susannah and stood on his shaky tail. He lifted his claws to his neck until he used that same hand to grab at the arm that had been cut those years ago. 'I like being around you.'

Sure, she was beautiful, and had the demeanor and poise of a salacious southern belle. But, the grand cusp of everything was...

Silas turned towards her, his fingers signing out something so simple.

'You're the only one who's ever told me that it's not my fault. And, even though that's a lie, it... at least makes me –'

“Hey, watch it!” A form built like a mountain bumped into Silas and knocked the naga to the floor. “ _Fucking snakes..!_ ” The assaulting form barked down at him, spitting flecks of lava from his stone maw. “I oughta --”

“Back off, fire-crotch!”

Susannah rushed over and immediately began trying to heft Silas's dazed form off the ground. She didn't miss the glowing leer sent in her direction.

“Hey now...” He wiped at his drooling mouth, “You could have a real good time without this little shit. Come on, I'll buy you a drink.”

Susannah's glare could have and would have curdled cream. “Your mama never taught you to listen, huh? Back off!”

The creature burned that much brighter when rejection's sting settled within him. “Fucking slut, see if I – Shit!”

Silas's tail whipped behind one of the creature's ankles and sent him falling to the floor.

Susannah got Silas upright. “Honey, as much as that was great timing, I really wish you hadn't done that.”

The burning creature shuffled to his feet and his spine erupted into orange sparks. “You're fucking toast!!” He barked out. He curled his large bear claw of a hand into a fiery fist and lunged forward.

Susannah shut her eyes, body tensing and anticipating the worst.

She heard the crackling of burning wood. She felt the heat. She also felt Silas's arms wrapped around her, a second away from shoving her out of the approaching inferno.

But it all had stopped.

Susannah opened her eyes and saw dark material. Perhaps leather. A vest draped from broad shoulders.

She followed the ridges and dips vest-owner's back and arms.

“Ggh..!” The magma-creature grit out, glaring at the human crushing his hand in a grip that almost seemed tired.

Silas, still dazed, looked up. 'Zach..?'

Zach glanced back before swinging his attention back to the heated creature. “Is this really how you want the night to go down?”

“What the fuck is it to you?! And let GO!!” The magma creature pulled back but Zach tightened his hold.

Crack!

“AH, let go!” The magma-creature yelped. His eyes went shock wide, drips of molten rock leaving their corners. “LET GO, ALREADY!!”

Zach mulled it over. “I could do that, yeah.” He tightened his hold a bit more. “It is an option.”

“I'LL _LEAVE_ , just _let go~!_ ”

Zach shrugged and let go. Although his hand was crumpled like paper, the offender couldn't help but have the last growl before limping away.

Zach watched him scurry off, eyes lingering on the shapely hills of his backside. “That's a shame.” He turned around and asked, “What happened to him?”

Susannah wasn't in the mood for anymore surprises that night. “What's it to ya? Who are you, goin' around like some hollerin' vigilante?”

'Landlord...' Silas signed. His whole frame jerked, he hiccuped, and he was out like a light.

“Hey!” Susannah shook him and tapped at his cheek. “Come on, don't you go passin' out on me now!”

Zach walked over and knelt down. “He should sleep this off.”

Susannah stopped just short of puffing her cheeks up like a rosy chipmunk. “Well, gee, how do you figure we do --”

Without skipping a beat, Zach hefted the unconscious naga up and draped him over his shoulders. Susannah couldn't stop the dust of rose over her face. “That.”

***

Heels in her hand, Susannah followed Zach along the moss-blanketed side roads of ShimmerGale.

Zach, still holding stronger than strong despite Silas having fifty or so pounds on him, kept walking.

“You don't have to worry.” He said without stopping his path. “I'm going to get him home just fine.”

Susannah said, not missing a beat, “I just want to make sure of that.”

Zach stopped at the crosswalk marked by several aged ironwoods.

A swarm of fireflies floated around the boughs of the closest tree.

Zach watched them. “This light always takes forever to change.”

“You really aren't getting' tired, are you?”

Zach turned to Susannah and saw unease and skepticism burning in her irises.

Zach shook his head and went back to waiting for the light.

Of course sleeping bloodhounds didn't lie, though. Susannah stepped up, standing at Zach's side. “What's your deal, anyway? Most guys would be quick to let nonhumans settle nonhuman issues. You just jumped in like you have a death-wish! What I'm sayin, in the long of it, is...”

She made sure that Zach was looking at her. “People like you don't go around without something to hide.”

Zach looked at Susannah. A slow slide up. A sluggish climb down.

“I could say the same about you.”

The fireflies filled up the tree boughs, painting the leaves in a light green glow.

***

When Zach opened the doors to 1685 Blightblossom Lane, he looked around to make sure the condo was quiet before taking Silas to his room.

Susannah followed him in, looking around the naga's private space. It was... cozy. A circular bed with thin sheets and a seafoam pillow. Simple dressers and a closet full of casual shirts and his Keebalah uniform. There were quite a few posters as well, though all of them either depicted Keebalah Culinary Technical Institute, Chef Ernest, or some elegant dessert.

Everything was draped in a dim light that existed more for soft warmth than illumination.

Zach laid Silas into bed and covered him with the sheets. “Hey, so, listen.” Zach said, stepping to the door when he was done. “I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I think it's better to just let him sober up.”

And then he was gone.

Susannah noted the door being left ajar. She didn't need to be told twice, but she couldn't stop thinking about what Silas had said before.

'You're the only one who's ever told me that it wasn't my fault. And even though I know that's a lie...'

Susannah stepped over to the sleeping naga. His scales held a little bit of warmth where she ran her fingers over his brow and cheek.

 

 

Tsukuyomi's moon was a quarter of itself in the night sky, it's pale light shining in on Susannah's body leaning over Silas's unconscious form.

 


	43. A Day in Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I haven't been active in replying to and thanking each and every one of you for reading and commenting, but I really do appreciate it. Thank you so, so much.

 

* * *

 

 

In one of the dormitory cabins of Fae Rock Boarding Academy, one could hear the clacking of claws against plastic as well as laughter and smart remarks.

“Come on,” The Camazotz, the Mayan death-bat god, laughed and nudged his baby brother with one of his mighty wings. Besame, the younger death-bat, puffed up his cheeks and continued to click and clack at the plastic in his talons.

Both brothers were rapping away at game controllers and moving the characters on the simple television screen in the front of the room. Of course, being bats, the only places they could hold such devices were their lower talons.

An explosion on-screen had Besame groaning and flopping backwards onto the couch. “No _mames guey~!_ ”

The Camazotz chuckled and ruffled his brother's large ears. “Maybe one day you will be able to beat me.” He pressed his nose to Besame's cheek, earning a whine, “But not today.”

There was a gentle knock at the door, Eirwen walking in and turning down the pink flames of his lantern. “Alright, guys; time for bed!”

There were some boo's from Pepper Mint and Winter Mint but the boys eventually did all climb into their respective beds.

The Camazotz helped Besame onto his roost. It had been such a hassle to get the younger death-bat used to this sleep cycle, even though he would end up breaking it once he graduated. Still, The Camazotz scratched Besame's head and gave him an upside-down forehead kiss. “Buenas noches.”

Besame removed his glasses and wrapped himself with his wings. A squeaky yawn and he was slowly swaying his hanging form to sleep.

When everyone was in bed, Eirwen whispered, “Good night, boys.” And turned down the lights until only a few lanterns scattered around the cabin served as illumination. Both the human and The Camazotz quietly exited the cabin doors.

“Heading off to Necronia?” Eirwen asked.

The Camazotz nodded. “Back to the grind. Death waits for no man and Akeldama, he waits for no creature.”

Both of them looked at the drifting moon and the slivers of silver around it. “Okay. Off I go.”

Eirwen moved his lantern behind himself, bursts of wind flying over him with every heavy wing-beat until, finally

The Camazotz was gone.

***

The Camazotz spiraled through the air. He dipped through the narrow gaps between buildings, his talons glancing off of window panes.

He sped up when he caught the scent of stale water. Necronia's main waterway.

The Camazotz made a hasty landing at the Dividing Docks. Half of the water flow easily sluiced through the iron structure covered in waterleaves: down to the citizens who relied on the river's benefits.

The other half of the river moved much slower. One, due to how the Dividing Docks did just as their title decreed: divided and dammed the river. Two, due to just what half of the river carried.

They were white and formless pieces of light as they floated down the river. Hundreds. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands every hour flooding the River Grief.

The Camazotz landed upon the docks and snatched up a black clipboard. He didn't flinch at the pain of biting his finger, quickly swiping the bead of blood across the charcoal-colored paper and revealing complicated charts and scratches of graphs.

“Has Anubis given us numbers yet?” The Camazotz asked the old man who was waiting at the bow of a ferry that promised a length of several football fields.

“Still waitin'...” The old man shrugged, a soft shimmer lining his form. Some gods liked the pomp and prep. Charon preferred to be an outlier.

The Camazotz rolled his eyes and flipped through the clipboard's papers. Anubis _always_ overplayed his place in the grand scheme of death. If _he_ wanted to waste a bunch of time weighing hearts against feathers, he needed to do it on his _own_ time. They had a schedule to keep, damn it.

“Wh-what is... this...?”

“Gregory?”

Oh, _shit_.

The Camazotz looked at the docks and saw that some of the recently deceased souls had breached themselves. Which would have been _great_ if they were ready to board. But, again, _Anubis..._

“Where the hell am I?!”

“Mommy? Mommy, where are you?!”

Charon walked over with one of his oars. “They're getting anxious.” He smacked one of the souls back into the river.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear.” The Camazotz set the clipboard down and brought out his phone. “Come on, come o – Hey Izanami! How are you doing today, bonita?” He nudged a soul into the water with a wing. “Listen, I was just... wondering if you could – Si, yes! Is King Yama around to...” He frowned. “Fucking Anubis... Can you just give me an estimate of... Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll make it work. Adios.”

The Camazotz slipped his phone back into his pocket. “We're going to try for 6,000 today!”

Charon frowned. “That'll barely make a dent. What the hell is Anubis doing?”

The Camazotz didn't even want to answer that. He retrieved the clipboard and flapped back a few paces. Charon dipped his oar into the river and stirred the stale water. He flipped a great collection of the churning souls out onto the docks and stepped aside for The Camazotz to flap over.

“Attention!” He called out, “Hey. Hey! Listen up!”

The amorphous souls were still panicking and murmuring, but it was lessened to a wash rather than a roar. The Camazotz nodded, “Much better. Now, if you just follow directions and guidance, this will all pass by much more smoothly. Bueno. Now, you are all here because your lives have come to an e--”

The docks exploded into gasps and shrieks of dismay dancing with horror. The Camazotz rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable bout of twenty questions and doubt.

“This is _impossible_!” One soul shrieked, “I'm supposed to outlive my douchebag husband so I can get his inheritance money!!”

The Camazotz looked at his clipboard. “Mm-hm, yeah: it says that you ended up drinking the glass of wine you laced with cyanide for him.” The soul broke into a squall of sobs, The Camazotz humming, “Si, a sad day all around...”

“I'm only 23!!” Another soul insisted.

The Camazotz flipped through the clipboard. “23 and too desperate for a drink, my friend.”

“Well _I_ can't be here!” A third soul floated right up into the Camazotz's face, “I had my whole life ahead of me and I haven't done anything the _least_ bit risky! Hell, just before I woke up here I dared to try Meth for the first time and--”

The Camazotz lifted an eyebrow at the soul.

The soul took a beat. “Oh _God_!”

“If that's all out of the way.” Charon looked towards the gates that blocked off his main ferry. Though it looked much smaller than what the 6,000 souls would need, the boatman had a means of making things work. “Alright, single file. If you want a special seat, you better hope that your loved ones buried you with some coin for it.”

The Camazotz took to the air and oversaw the floating march of souls. The ferry dipped and bobbed with the current, knocking against the docks.

“5,999...” The Camazotz checked off, “6,000! Alright, vamos!” He landed upon the bow of the ferry and Charon shoved off before any of the souls could make a panicked break for it.

The river of souls carried them down, down, _down_ a quiet path. Through a valley, draped in gossamer shadow. The dilapidated buildings of Necronia had long since faded away in favor of this new darkness. “Hang on.” Charon said, steering the ferry towards a churning path that led deep into the earth.

One of the souls squawked, “With _what_?”

“Not my problem.”

Everyone lurched to the side of the ferry and jerked towards the front. The spires and boulders jutting out of the river warped the water and souls underneath the ferry into a churning frenzy. The Camazotz wavered but quickly set his talons back into place.

Even after doing this for so many eons, the Bargaining Bend of the River Grief was the worst to ride through.

***

The Depression Bend of the River Grief was calm. Gentle. Monotonous. But loud all the same. Charon's ferry knocked against the riverbank of the Acceptance Shore. No place further to go accept for back down the same washes and crashes you just came down.

No mere mortal ever made it back up.

“One-by-one,” The Camazotz flapped up above the souls bobbing and floating down a path laid with bricks of marble. “Come on, stick to the path.”

“All stand in address!”

The Camazotz snapped a wing up in the air, the souls taking the hint to stop their death march. Two cranes walked on either side of her and two oni demons, their golden horns contrasting their charcoal skin. They were serving as the entourage of a certain Shinto goddess of welcoming, transition, and natural state of death.

“For She-Who-Welcomes: Izanami no Mikoto!”

Even after all these years, she was beautiful. Skin the color of bone, hair the color of pitch with the rare silver strand here and there. Her kimono was pristine aside from the faint dusting of funerary dust on the hems.

“Ah, Camazotz-sama..!” Izanami gave the death-bat a little bow and smile. As she straightened back up, her kimono shifted the slightest bit away from her shoulder. Maggots and rats crawled over the rotted remains of her ribcage. “6,000 down here already? You're always so swift with your wings.”

The Camazotz scratched the back of his head and gave a short laugh. “Si, well...” He couldn't drag his eyes off of those pale, smooth lips or the slight shadows under her eyes. “B-Besame!”

Izanami blinked. “Your... little brother?”

The Camazotz nodded, ears and wings flopping with the motion, “He really enjoyed those, eh...” He tried to stumble around any related words, “Squishy... Colorful... Bolas...”

Izanami giggled, “Ah, you mean the Mizu-Manju?”

The Camazotz didn't trust himself to not ruin the conversation any further. He nodded, the hairs on the back of his neck and his cheeks starting to poof up.

“I am glad.” Said Izanami, a worm slithering over her wrist, “Ever since my ex ruined _both_ of our lives all those years ago, I've missed out on so many holidays with my own children. And Besame is so cute I couldn't _not_ get him something soft and sweet for Snowfall.”

Charon shoved off, guiding his ferry back down the river. “See you two tomorrow, then.”

The Camazotz and Izanami waved Charon off. Thus came that bit of silence between conversation points. The kind where an elephant is taking a gigantic deuce off to the side, and everyone knows that it will have to be cleaned up eventually, but just gauging how long said 'eventually' actually will be.

Izanami sighed, “Anubis.”

“Anubis.” The Camazotz nodded.

***

Several larger offices lined the structure of the Halls of Judgment and Recompense. One of them was carded off by a door of polished ebony and golden hieroglyphs. A scholar's pedigree wasn't needed to realize whose place of business this was.

Anubis, all height and the imposing visage of a jackal's head hewn into an obsidian mask, tossed a pair of leather gloves that scarcely had a smudge upon them into the refuse bin.

He held out one dark hand, dusted in fur, tipped in manicured claws of gold, and a fresh leather glove was slipped onto it.

“Next, please.” Said Anubis as a shambling form of gray, dried skin and bone pulled a fresh leather glove over the death god's other hand.

Another dehydrated form, eyes nothing more than dusty holes, shuffled over. They carried a golden platter in their hands, a heart beating on top of it.

Anubis jotted down several notes on a scroll of papyrus, then he gently took the flush organ within his hands.

“You have some weight to you.” He hummed. “A meal? A repenter?”

Anubis set the heart upon the set of scales on his work podium.

On the left side, the heart.

The other, a single, white feather.

The scale was still. The dried corpses rasped and wheezed. Anubis remained quiet.

At least.

            Until.

                   The scale.

                                 Shifted.

                                            To the.

                                                       Right.

“Pity.” Anubis's scowl was, of course, hidden by the obsidian mask over his head. But it definitely was there as he tossed the heart in question into a forgotten basket labeled 'For Ammit'.

He waited for the dehydrated corpses to remove his latest set of gloves and replace them. “Bring over the next one, please.”

_Knock!_

“No...” Anubis replied, not giving whoever was on the other side much more thought.

_Knock-knock!_

“No.” Anubis watched one of the corpses shuffle over with a new heart, prime for the judgment of the scales.

***

“And this,” Said The Camazotz as he and Izanami stood outside of Anubis's office chamber, “Is why we can never have good things.”

Izanami shook her head, a corpse beetle scuttling from her collarbone to behind her ear. “I can only imagine why that sweet sphinx dumped him--”

The office door cracked open. Out stepped Anubis, suit still clean and pressed to the 9's, leather gloves shining just like his leather dress shoes.

“May I _help_ you?” He turned the static visage of his mask towards the two other deities, words working hard to smother the growling bite beneath them.

The Camazotz walked forward, “We need you to open the Canal.”

“I'm. Not. Done.” Anubis seethed. He turned on his heel and marched back into his office. The Camazotz shoved his wing in before the door could close.

Izanami, after flinching at the impact, stepped forward. “We are backed up by thousands! The easiest thing to do would be to let Akeldama sift through the worst of it. Anubis, please stop with your aesthetic-over-function nonsense!”

Anubis rubbed at the temple of his mask. Fools. Death was a ritual. An art. The most important festival in the chain of existence.

And these idiots wanted to simply rush through it for the sake of human measures such as 'quotas' and 'schedules'.

_Bing!_

_Bong!_

_Bing!_

_Bong!_

Anubis answered his phone without a glance to the ID. “10 words, no more.”

***

“For goodness' sake, man!” That was Yama, the Hindu death god. In the Indian extent of the underworld, he was riding his bull and trying to corral the overflow of the dead into either the Path of the Moon for reincarnation or the Path of the Sun for divinity.

He was just a bit overwhelmed with the souls washing over from his compatriots. Not to mention poor Chitragupta was tearing his hair out with all the paperwork.

“WHERE ARE ALL OF YOU COMING FROM?!” The poor judge screamed, “Most of you aren't even Hindu!!”

“Keep your calm, Chitragupta...” Yama sighed before resuming his phone call, “And don't get me started on the clusterfuck that Hades is going through!”

***

Over in the Grecian branch of the underworld, the large cerberus Spot was rushing this way and that after stray spirits.

“Damn it, go over there!” Thanatos smacked a stubborn spirit into Tartarus with his scythe. He felt a tug at his jeans and looked down to see several small souls clinging to him. “I AM NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS!”

“You don't get paid, dear.” Persephone offered, Thanatos groaning,

“THAT JUST MAKES THINGS WORSE!”

Persephone only sighed before turning back towards her lap. “There, there...” Her lyrical voice offered to Hades. Her husband's cold trembled, arms tight around himself as he had assumed the fetal position.

He had a system!

A perfectly good system!

What the hell were those idiots in Dama Fristad doing?!

***

Anubis hung up his phone. He didn't need to look back at The Camazotz and Izanami grinning around the open door.

“Do as you please and leave me be.” He told them, door slamming behind him.

Izanami looked to The Camazotz. “That went well.”

“Let's just hope that Akeldama is awake.” The Camazotz looked down to the floor; at their shadows.

***

“ _So lovely...”_

Whorls of misty shadow watched from the abyss.

“ _Blessed amongst the seed of man are you, dear...”_

They always watched more than he needed to.

“ _Come along, now. Milk and honeyed cakes are waiting for you. You've been such a fa--”_

Akeldama pulled themselves together, condense and grinning.

 

> _**“Okay.”** _

The grin widened, thin shadow seeping out.

 

> _**“** _ _**Back to the grind.”** _

***

“Orders all set!!” Barked a Hellhound. It jumped from one side of the great ivory and rust barriers.

A Mortificiant, a young witch of Death, hopped up to the barriers high left corner. “Ready to open when Akeldama arrives!”

She stepped back from a wash of souls crashing into the barrier.

It was a feat of the world that Akeldama's Canal could contain so many of the waiting dead. The sounds of bewilderment and fury were a deafening din. But it was obscured, just for a moment, by the curtain of shadow that crawled over the area. It dragged itself and didn't stop until it slipped through the barrier and hurled itself into the empty abyss beyond.

All went still.

Save for the miserable souls.

Both the Hellhound and the Mortificiant undid their latches, the great barriers swinging inwards toward the abyss.

A quake, rolling from the smallest origins until it exploded, preceded a gigantic plume of smoke and shadow bursting from the abyss.

“ _ **AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!!!!”**_

The plume screeched out, some of its shape attempting to form.

A pair of spindling horns.

Crooked arms connecting to rake-like claws.

And, finally, those whirling eyes and wide grin of thin shadow and smoke.

They reached out into the aether and pulled back a set of scales hewn from the same whisping material.

Or lack thereof.

Finally, Akeldama was ready to judge.

The canal's contents surged forward towards the abyss. But Akeldama merely surged their claws into the lifeless waters.

They were gifted a choir of misery and panic upon holding the writhing souls in front of their discerning eyes.

Mere seconds later, Akeldama shook some of the souls out from their hand. They fell, screaming, into the abyss around his base.

 

> “ _ **TOUGH BREAK!”**_

They told the others. Akeldama tipped their head back, their grin opening into a monstrous maw of writhing serpents and icy flames. As they plummeted down into the nightmarish pit, screams and sobs bounced off of the walls. Akeldama snapped their jaws shut. They swallowed with a mighty crack, the great bulge slithering down their throat.

Akeldama dipped one side of their scales into the canal, lifting it up with several dozen souls inside.

Akeldama narrowed their eyes, counting and inspecting factors and figures only visible to themselves.

Their claws plucked ten and twenty souls from one cup to the next. Then a dozen more. Five more. Two were put back into the first cup.

Finally, the two cups rested even with one another. Akeldama poured one cup into the abyss and knocked the other back into their maw.

“Westward tributary open!” The Camazotz shouted just before another small river-way burst open: more souls flooding into the canal.

Akeldama glared at the swelling tide of the mourned and weeping.

 

> “ _ **OKAY...”**_

They snapped their claws, not in the mood for games.

The canal chamber erupted into mutters and yelps and squawks as Anubis, Osiris, Hades, Thanatos, Charon, Yama, Chitragupta, Hela, and three other figures of death popped in against their will.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Erysichthon blinked his glowing eyes. He looked around the chamber – trying to avoid eye-contact with his wife, good – and he happily waved his arms when he saw his son. “Fane! Hey buddy!”

“Oh, _fuck_ me!” Fane pulled his hood over his head.

Erysichthon, not trying to let it get to him, turned and noticed another familiar face. “Anubis! It's been ages!”

“Oh, _fuck me_.” Anubis rubbed at his temples, stopping only when Hades shoved past him.

“Persephone?!” He shouted. He looked around, white hair whipping around himself, “Has anyone seen my emotional-support goddess?! Because I am FREAKING the FUCK out right now!!”

Thanatos tried reaching out for his boss, “Sir--”

“WHERE ARE MY ESSENTIAL OILS?!”

The Grim Reaper made a beeline for her heir. She tore his hood away and hissed, _“Are you determined to be an embarrassment towards me? What beneath the earth are you wearing?!”_

“Whose a good boy?” Hela said, rubbing the belly of her loyal guard hound Garmr. “Good puppy... Sweet puppy... Understanding puppy...”

“I can not be here!” Chitragupta screamed, flipping through the scroll that held his daily planner. “I have a system, damn it! I HAVE A SYSTEM!”

 

> “ _ **SHUUUUUUUT...! UUUUUUUP...!”**_

The canal chamber went quiet. The only sounds the drips of water and the rustle of

 

> “ _ **WE ARE BACKED UP TO SHIT,”**_

Akeldama hissed, shooting a glare towards Anubis,

 

> _**“** _ _**BECAUSE SOME OF YOU WOULD RATHER FOLLOW AESTHETIC OVER FUNCTION LIKE STUBBORN SHOW-HORSES!”** _

Akeldama readjusted the scales in their hand. _**“**_

 

> _**SO, UNTIL THINGS GET SETTLED DOWN IN A WAY THAT ISN'T SCREWING HALF THE WORLD OVER, I'M KEEPING YOUR VOICES..! NOW!”** _

Akeldama pointed one way at a time, announcing,

 

> _**“** _ _**YAMA! CHITRAGUPTA! YOU HANDLE OLD-AGE!”** _

The two Hindu deities nodded and got to work.

 

> _**“HELA, I WANT YOU ON MURDERS! ANUBIS! OSIRIS! GET ON CASUALTIES OF WAR!”** _

Akeldama counted off something in their mind. Then, _**“**_

 

> _**CAMAZOTZ, START ON CHILDREN! IZANAMI, GET ON SUICIDES! HADES! YOU AND THANATOS TAKE VENGEANCE!”** _

Akeldama finally looked to the Grim Reaper, Erysichthon, and Fane.

 

> _**“** _ _**YOU THREE... WILL HELP WITH TRANSPORT. UNDERSTOOD?”** _

Of course, even if Fane had wanted to refuse, he couldn't. Not stuck between the hard place of his mother and the rock that was Necronia's Guardian.

***

Yama and his bull herded a pile of souls towards Akeldama. Each trip only okay'd after a check of quality from Chitragupta.

Thanatos swept several floating souls in Hades' direction. Hades made quick work of sorting each soul into two fields. He swept half of the souls away with a wave of his arm, tossing the other half over to Erisychthon.

The Lich in question caught them, pouring them into a great hulking pot. A snap of his fingers brought forth a blue flame that rolled underneath it while he tossed more souls inside.

Charon, for his part, piloted his boat through the canal. His passenger then was Anubis, still taking his own brand of time inspecting the facets, trespasses, and shades of each soul he came across.

If the Grim Reaper had eyes, they would have been burning with the disgrace she had been lowered to.

She didn't sort the dead, she escorted them! The sheer amount of insolence!

Akeldama's mighty jaws snapped shut around the wave of souls sent their way. They moved to the side to let the others fall into the abyss.

“With the current workflow, we should hopefully have things back to Stable Ranges within two hours.” The Mortificiant on duty said, writing down several figures. The Hellhound watched the flow of the canal. What to have for lunch? Chili sounded nice.

Runner.

Oh, maybe some french fries! A nice Coral Cow Cola...

_Runner!_

Maybe someone would go in on a pie with hi – He tore out of his hungry musings! “RUNNER!” He barked, “WE'VE GOT A RUNNER!”

That turned the heads of every deity in the room. Indeed, one of the restless souls had made it to the shore of the canal and was making a break for it. The further it went from the lifeless waters, the more it seemed human: legs, arms, a face.

The Camazotz was too far away! Izanami didn't have her mounts!

Thanatos made a lunge for it and tripped on the cumbersome cuffs of his bell-bottoms.

Fane tossed two more souls into the pot. He felt something... tugging at him?

He couldn't yell at his mother yanking him from across the canal. Her eyes were cold and, despite her silence, crushing upon its typical ruthlessness, he could hear the the command as clear as a shout.

'Make yourself useful.'

What would it have done to try and challenge the coldest shadow in a chamber of regret and darkness?

Fane jumped into the stale air, wings bursting from his back.

He didn't need to go too fast.

Just fast enough to catch this piece of shit soul.

Nothing more.

The soul appeared more as a faint outline of a human figure at this point. They had no heart to pump blood through their veins. But still they panted and forced their feet to carry them further.

They were hurled backwards by a gust of wind. They hit the wall before Fane landed and withdrew his wings.

He glared down at the soul. His one eye burned with his internal burning mint and emerald.

"I just want to go home!!" They screamed, a lack of lips making the sound echo through the minds of the present deities.

Fane knew what to do.

He did.

Really.

He di--

The spirit squawled out their agony as they were sliced in two right down the middle.

Fane sighed. Damn it. Why had he panicked like that?

Akeldama crunched down around another swathe of souls. They lifted their head and took a quick survey.

Alright... Yeah, they could finish this in a night.

“ _Worthless child.”_ The Grim Reaper shook her head, just for her husband to sigh,

“Must we do this now?”

They both stopped and blinked. Well, one of them blinked. “Finally!”

The other death deities in the room let free their own gasps and comments of relief when their voices returned to them.

“Are we...” Yama rolled his hand.

Akeldama shrugged.

 

> _**“YEAH, SURE; WHY NOT?”** _

“Thank Olympus!” Hades grabbed Thanatos by the shoulder. He pulled forth a portal back into the Underworld's Grecian branch, Spot's growls and barks floating out of it. “Persephone!!” Hades shouted as he dragged Thanatos through, “Get me my diffuser!”

One by one the deities left the canal. Anubis stepped off of Charon's boat. He, of course, made sure to adjust his gloves and to brush off his suit before he made his way back to his office.

 

> “ _ **HEY.”**_

Anubis turned and looked upon the face of death's shadow. “Yes, Akeldama?”

 

> “ _ **IF YOU NEED A COME TO JESUS MOMENT, I CAN PULL SOME STRINGS. BUT I NEED YOU**_ _ **COME OFF OF YOUR HIGH HORSE, ANUBIS.”**_

Anubis's glare was, of course, hidden. Though it was more of a blessing this time around as he watched Akeldama slice through the canal to return to his position of swallowing souls to be taken to the audience of the almighty end and letting the truly forsaken fall into the judging abyss.

Anubis turned around and walked away.

Erisychthon poured his cauldron out into the canal. Best to boil away any doubt and pretense the souls he could get his hands on had.

“Hey!”

He had his son here and he was sure that Fane didn't have anything else planned today. “I heard about a great shop that opened downtown for that angry rocking-rolling music you like so much! How about coming along with your old man and--”

“ _You are to go straight back home and research a venue for harvesting the dead.”_

Erisycthon's shoulders clinked and sank when he heard his wife stabbing into their son with ice-turned-words. _“Your numbers are still pitiful and the matter in which you dealt with that one renegade soul shows me that you are woefully behind in the art of reaping. Now,”_ She turned away. _“Get out of my sight.”_

Fane clenched his fist at his side. Nevertheless, he turned and left the canal.

The commotion in the canal had long since died down. But that rang out worse than a procession of horns for Dama Fristad's lich.

“He's trying.”

“ _Your defending him is what has him so inept.”_ Said the Grim Reaper, _“So lazy. Weak.”_

Erisychthon shook his head and took his leave at the same time that the Grim Reaper faded away.

The Camazotz flew up in front of Akeldama's shadowy gaze. “Are we back on track?”

Akeldama nodded,

 

> _**“** _ _**FOR THE WEEK, AT LEAST.”** _

The Camazotz sighed, looking over the canal. A steady flow of souls and feelings of finality and there was Izanami gently pushing two stray souls back into the chilled waters. A warming sensation overtook his heart and cut away the cold of the canal chamber –

 

> “ _ **YOU GONNA ASK HER OUT OR WHAT, KID?”**_

The Camazotz felt a shiver lash through his body. He shook it off, sighing, “She's out of my league.”

Akeldama swallowed down a new wave.

 

> _**“YEAH, SURE.”** _

***

The thing was? Akeldama hardly ever worked. Well, they were always active; could the Shadow of the Valley of Death really ever sleep?

But, in addition to making sure that the dead stayed dying and that the living didn't interfere, as well minding their collection of clever skulls...

Was their fascination with memories. Particularly those of the mighty living. Akeldama condensed themselves down to their usual size and slid over the walls until they returned to their residing chamber.

Their smoky, swirling eyes spun, triggering a ball of ash and silver smoke to follow the same motions where it was held upon a clawed mark in the chamber's center.

“ _Look at her... She's going to grow up so beautiful.”_

_A chuckle._

 

> _“HOW CAN YOU BE SO CERTAIN? IT'S STILL AN EGG!”_

“ _A mother always knows, zeeskeit...”_

Akeldama's eyes closed.

They opened a moment later, the ball swirling with a new memory.

“ _Mother, come on!”_

“ _We'll scarcely have time for any of the festivities if we have to wait!”_

Claws like needles reached forth to adjust cloak and collar.

 

> “ _ **Patience** gifts **us** all. **And** proper **preparation** yields **sweet** returns...” _

Akeldama closed their eyes once more. When they opened them once more, that eerie grin was splitting their face. Though there words were far too bittersweet. “Will they ever come to forgive me?” They shook their head with a shrug. “Death and Life. A sorrowful ouroborous, no?”

Akeldama sent the ball away. Though deep in the caverns of the underworld, far beneath Necronia, they could sense Tsukuyomi cooling the night sky. This day of death had come to a close.

Just to be repeated the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next after that. Until Akeldama was no longer needed.

“ _ **What does happen,”**_ Akeldama chuckled, _**“When Death itself falls to perish?”**_

 


	44. Pride Fest - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The celebration of having pride in who you are and who you love is a huge affair in Dama Fristad. Allow us to show you just how wild and crazy the citizens of Dama Fristad get down when it comes to PRIDE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... This update actually wasn't planned. It just came to me while I was organizing the upload calendar for other updates. 
> 
> But I had fun with it (even though it took me all of June to do it) so I hope you have some fun reading it!

* * *

 

 

Zach's eyes roved over the selection in front of him.

Jeez, what would be the one to wear this year?

The rainbow-print pants with so many zippers that they seemed yanked right out of a JRPG franchise that takes way too long to finish?

No, he wore those last time.

Leather vest and capris?

“Shit...” He dialed a number on his phone and waited. “Hey. Eirwen, what are you wearing tonight?”

He lifted the shorts that were so short they would have been better off as swimming attire. “So you're going with... Okay. See you later, I guess.”

Zach tossed the phone aside and disrobed. There were still plenty of hours left before the festivities began.

But his hair alone was going to take forever to fight through.

***

“Gentleman and creature of no such binary!” Silveste trotted into the main room. The unicorn prince was donning a crown of laurels and pink, yellow, and baby-blue blooms, as well as a silk cape of the same colors. “I would ask of your observations of my choice of attire for this evening's festive-making!”

“What are you spazzing about?” Fane asked. His answer came swiftly in the form of Gahiji bouncing into the room, furniture jumping up with each landing.

“Tonight's one of Dama Fristad's _biggest_ parties ever!” Said the sphinx now rocking rainbow streaks in his mane and bracelets of similar spectrum on his ankles. “Oh, Silveste! I love your outfit!”

“My many gratitudes, fairest of felines.” Silveste walked into the kitchen for a drink. All his talking _did_ tend to work up a thirst faster than most.

“Out of the way, you literal prancing _pan_ sy.” Odysseus shoved Silveste aside to grab a soda from the fridge.

_Shake!_

_Shake!_

_Shake!_

He popped it open. “Whoa!” He pulled it away from himself once the stucky bubbles flew out. That didn't save Silveste, though.

“AAH!” Silveste whinnied at the sight of the sticky purple stain on his cape. “Blancher!” He galloped to his room in a panic, “Bruner! Get the wand and the Alla-Kazoo Bleaching Powder!!”

Odysseus plopped down onto the couch, chugging at his soda. “Don't know what you bunch of queers are going on about. Every Pride Fest is the same amount of gaudy colors and shitty music.”

“Aw...” Mira smirked, “Is everyone's favorite breeder sad that he has nothing to be prideful about?” He tossed his head back in laughter. But he was quickly cut off by Odysseus kicking his chest shut and using him as a footrest.

_'Please excuse us!'_ Nephubos raised a tentacle into the air, _'But could we please learn more about this... 'Pride Fest'?'_

Gahiji bounced over before anyone could beat him to the punch. “Gladly!”

 

So... Basically, Pride Fest celebrates everyone in Dama Fristad who falls into the LGBTA spectrum! It's a great, huge festival of special foods, drinks, socialization, and education!

It's also split into two halves. Pride Fest Day is for all ages. So it's a dry event and things are kept far more family-friendly!

But Pride Fest After Dark is where things get _really_ fun! The DFPD is around to make sure that things don't get _too_ crazy, but outside of that it's no holds barred! From the wider array of foods, to the _fountains_ of alcoholic beverages, to all sorts of salacious events.

The Incubi/Succubae Parade... The Paint Wrestling Contest... The Drag Contests... The Tom Tap Tournament...

 

“And _this year_ ,” Gahiji added, holding a paw up to the white board he had his info written on, “There are going to be some special events taking place since the Amorist Party is hosting. There are going to be intimacy consultations from Eros and Mine, Keebalah Tech and Cara Mellice are going to sampling out all sorts of treats, not to mention all of the _dancing_! Yep!”

He smacked his paw against the board, “This festival can fit so much partying in it!”

_'Ooh...'_

“Tch.” That was Fane frowning up a storm from his spot in the kitchen. “Who cares about what a bunch of wrinkly old fucks get up to in shitty glitter and body-paint?”

Mira grinned, “Salty because you're under-aged, aren'tcha?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Fane hurled the water-bottle he was drinking from at the mimic. It didn't matter if he was 'under-aged', he could always find a way to sneak in.

Suraj had called himself 'needing to get away for the night' and had been gone for an hour so far! Like, what the _fuck_? If he didn't want to help Fane sneak into Pride Fest, he could have just said so instead of being a flake!

***

Suraj looked around the pools of magma deep with Ignis Fanis. He really _had_ been fleeing to this district a lot as of late.

But...

He didn't want to risk temptation.

Suraj found a smooth, warm rock to sit upon. Crossing his legs underneath himself, he made sure that the basket of food and water bottles he had brought were nearby. “Alright, world.” He pressed in two earplugs, “See you in 8 hours.”

***

The stage had been set: half of CenterPointe had been fenced off to provide enough space for both the patrons and booths of Pride Fest, as well as the parades and events. As soon as Ra and Tsukuyomi had switched places, the area exploded into a burst of vibrant colors against the dimly-lit setting.

Humans and nonhumans swarmed into the area in droves and swarms: dancing, meeting with friends, getting an early start on hookups and free swag.

Two shapely legs walked through the crowds of color and dancing, feasting bodies. Furry rainbow boots came up to their ankle and the coverage didn't continue until just under the swell of their behind where a furry rainbow coat started and didn't end until the hood covering their head with floppy bunny ears.

“'Ey baby!” Crowed a kappa, “You must be a sand castle, 'cause you lookin' mighty fine to-night!”

The figure gives them a short wave and keeps walking.

“Damn hunty~” A siren drag queen strolled by, face made-up to the 90s, “You rocking that jelly~”

The figure takes one of the drag queen's business cards and promises to check out her social media site after the festivities.

A werewolf and her human girlfriend were walking by, the latter struggling to hold up the prior who was already drunk.

“Hey sweetie~!” The werewolf slurred out, her tail wagging, “How high do those legs go?!”

The figure kept walking until they got to a booth that was selling what appeared to be Jello shots that shimmered and sparked and even sang out their multitude of hues.

“Rory!”

“Hm?” The figure turned around, revealing the baby face of the bookstore owner in question. “Eirwen, you made it!”

“Well, I couldn't possibly say no!” Eirwen walked over, dressed in rainbow-striped baggy pants, a blue tshirt, and a rainbow snapback. “I mean,” He shrugged, “Rhubarbara would have had my ass if I didn't take tonight off with all of the vacation-time I have saved up.”

 

“It's only four-thousand, three-hundred, eighty-hours--”

“That's SIX MONTHS OF VACATION TIME! Take some time off, you obsessive fuck!! FIND A BOYFRIEND OR SOMETHING!!”

 

“But that's not here, there, or the Underwhere,” Eirwen rapidly about-faced on the topic, “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“Of course!” Rory gave an enthusiastic nod but his curls slowed their bounce as he asked, “Why do you ask?”

Eirwen gave a lopsided frown. “I mean, remember the last time we all we came to Pride Fest?”

 

_Rory's cheeks had a pretty pink blush as he nodded. “...I even made some Rainbow Rolls to start our celebrations wi – !” Rory held up the container of multicolored rolls. Eirwen made to grab one, though his attention was a little taken by the gruff lumberjack yetis tearing off their flannel shirts to reveal thick, hairy, barrel chests--_

_“ – Who wants to suck these nuts?!”_

_“Wait, what?” Eirwen whipped his head around until he heard a splash. “Rory!” He shouted and rushed to the Cheer Cauldron where Rory had been slammed into._

_“Help!” Rory had sputtered out, “Somebody?! Anybody!!”_

 

“Oh.” Rory deflated. “R-right.”

Eirwen sighed at the sight of his downtrodden friend. “Well, I can only imagine why the past would repeat itself. Let's just...” He nudged their shoulders together, “Keep clear of the Cheer Cauldron this time around, huh?”

Rory chuckled his agreement. Then he asked, “Have you heard from Zach?”

“Yeah, he was wondering what I was going to wear tonight.” Eirwen replied. “I hope he hasn't been held up somewhere.”

“Hey!”

Both men turned to see Faaria walking over, phone in hand and a grin on her lips.

“Faaria, you made it!” Rory said.

“Like I'm going to turn down sparkly booze.” Said Faaria, “Besides, I made a promise to someone to show them around Pride Fest this year. But!” Faaria jabbed a finger in Rory's direction. “Rory! Are you trying your chances with Pride Fest again? Did you forget what happened last time?”

“Rory!” Faaria jabbed a finger in his face. “Are you trying you chances with Pride Fest again? Did you forget what happened _last_ time?”

 

“ _I'm so excited!” Rory said before digging into his saddlebag, “I even made some Rainbow Rolls to start our celebrations wi--”_

“ _Alright, fags and dykes! Who wants to suck these nuts?!” That boisterous shout caught everyone off-guard, as did something large, drunk, and heavy slamming into Rory and sending him into the Cheer Cauldron with a vibrant, rainbow splash._

“ _Help!” He called out, “Somebody? Anybody?!”_

_Zach had, luckily, started stripping down to his skivvies at the word 'help'. He made quick work of jumping in after his friend and pulling him to high, reasonably sober, ground._

 

“Faaria! I thought you were going to wait!” Attention was pulled towards a small alibrije in the technicolor shape of a baby triceratops. Or, rather, the human that was being led by it.

Long brown hair that hung over her face, lovely olive skin, and a slim figure that contrasted with Faaria's heavy-set frame.

The new girl handed Faaria a drink. “You wanted a Midas Mixtape, right?” She asked, handing over the sparking glass of what appeared to be pineapple, ginger, and lemon.

“Perfect! Oh, here.” Faaria held a hand out towards Rory and Eirwen. “I've told you about Rory and Eirwen, right? Guys, this is my flatmate, Luciana!”

Rory gave a short wave. “A pleasure to meet you. Faaria's spoken about you a lot.”

Luciana chuckled before moving some of her hair out of her face so she could take a sip of her drink.

Eirwen stopped himself from flinching at the sight of a satin eye cover: faint scar lines visible at the edges the mask didn't cover.

“So good to meet you guys, too!” Said Luciana, “But, wait, Rory... Faaria was telling me that you've been having really bad luck with this event. You go through all of this work preparing sweets, then some asshole knocks you into a pit of booze, then you have to get saved --”

“Hey, speaking of which!” Faaria took a sip of her drink, “Don't tell me Zach is running late again! Rory, has he texted either of you?”

Rory brought out his phone, not seeing anything recent from his stoic friend.

“He'll be here soon,” Eirwen reassured everyone, “Zach loves Pride Fest, he wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“He'd miss it for some good, single-dad-with-a-retirement-fund dick.” Faaria muttered under her breath.

Luciana bumped Faaria with her hip. “You are terrible at whispering.”

Eirwen agreed. Silently, of course.

A few dollar bills were set upon a booth's counter.

“Maybe I should call?” Rory asked.

A can of spraypaint was handed over.

“He could be busy with his tenants.” Eirwen offered, Faaria sighing,

“You're probably right...”

A test spray on the open mural resulted in stripes of rainbow colors. Perfect.

Eirwen felt ice creep up his spine. “He's... here.” He choked.

Everyone else cheered, though Luciana had to stop her alerbrije when he started growling. “Ay, what are you doing?”

Zach walked up in cargo shorts, a rainbow tie-dyed tank-top, with a matching bandana tied over his mouth and nose.

“Took me forever to find a ride down here.” He hugged Rory and Faaria before patting a trembling Eirwen on the head. When he noticed Luciana he held out his hand. “Zach Bruys.”

“Luciana San Juan.” She said, taking his handshake and returning it in tandem.

With introductions out of the way, Zach turned to look at Rory.

“Hm?” Rory blinked.

“...”

Rory had to think on it. “Oh! O-oh...” Rory pouted, “I'm sure things won't end up as bad as that time. I --”

“HURRY UP, BITCH! MY PUSSY HURTS!”

Zach pulled Rory out of the way of two drag queen dragons rampaging on their way to the restrooms.

When the commotion passed, Rory noticed the hard chest he was plastered against. “Maybe I could... stand to be a bit more vigilant.”

The group gently conversed over potential itineraries, the planning broken by an obnoxious bellow of “All this glitter and rainbows is making me want to _off myself..!_ ”

Zach turned around. Sure enough, there was his all-brawn/no-tact tenant: horns, hooves, et al.

“Why are you here?” Zach asked, Odysseus guffawing,

“You kidding? You fags and your fagginess annoy the hell out of me, but this clusterfuck is always good for something! Shit,” He shoved a random passerby away and stole their beer, “I remember last year, I got HAMMERED AS _FUCK_ and ended up knocking some little pansy into the Cheer Cauldron! It was fucking great!”

“I was scrubbing Honey Wine out of the crack of my ass for a week because of you.”

“Anyway!” Odysseus walked off. “Gonna go find some lonely co-ed to suck my dick!”

Zach watched Odysseus until the crowds filled back in. “Really shouldn't have to overcompensate like that. But, okay.”

***

“Pride Fest!” Gahiji whooped, popping out from behind a Safe Sexual Relations Between Humans and Nonhumans booth.

“Pride Fest!” He shouted, from on top of a suspiciously vulvic-shaped parade float.

“Pride Fest!!” He was a ball of giggles and excitement as he bounced through the festivities. Though he and Silveste had arrived together, the two had parted ways once the hype of the bombastic festival had hit.

“Now that my introduction has been handled by the writer,” Said Gahiji, “What to do... first..? Hey! Fanny Funnelcake!” Gahiji bounced down a stretch of road, making sure not to crush anybody because –

“Dayum, baby-boy, you thicc!” Said a devil who had to stop mid-stroll to lower his glasses and get a better look at Gahiji's ass.

“Thank you~!” Gahiji waved him off before continuing on. That devil wasn't the only one to find themselves a little struck by those lips and that. Ass. But Gahiji's brainpower was focused like a laser on enjoying the festivities. Even if, as he passed a purveyor of penis-shaped popsicles, he noticed a familiar phantom with his arms folded and his shoulders hunched and his lips frowning--

Gahiji bounced backwards and peeked between the booths. “Fane?” Indeed it was the young phantom who was trying to blend into the scenery.

“Oh, great... You found me...” Fane was failing to hide his frustration. “What, are you going to try and tell me to go home? That I'm under-aged?”

“Nope!” Gahiji shook his head, “Because, at the end of the day, I'm your friend; not your chaperone!”

“Wait, what?!” Fane saw the sphinx resuming his bouncy path towards the Corral of Colors, where the booths and storefronts all sold clothing and makeup that corresponded to the many flags and streamers of Pride. “Hey! Come back!!”

Gahiji slowed down and took a good look around until his eyes flashed.

“Get back here, you fat furry fuck!” Fane wheezed and heaved as he finally caught up to the sphinx. “What the hell was that about?! If you want me to go home, just tell me instead of pulling some petty, pussy bull --”

“Here!” Gahiji yanked Fane's hoodie off and away.

“Hey!” Fane yelped, wrapping his arms around both halves of his chest, “What the fu--”

“Try this on!” Gahiji didn't skip a beat, pulling a new hoodie over the young phantom's head and shoulders. Fane popped out of the hoodie, his bangs fluffed up. He flipped his hair to it's normal state and then looked down at himself. “What kind of normie bullshit is this?!”

“It fits!” Gahiji beamed down at the hoodie decorated with skulls and teeth in a grafitti style. The whole thing was splashed in magentas, lavenders, and purples.

“I'm not fucking gay!” Fane hissed up at Gahiji, who shook his head,

“Well, duh~! That's not a Gay pride hoodie, silly!”

“What the fuck is it, then?!” Fane was in a shouty mood but, rather than focus on it, Gahiji bounced along; opting to let Fane figure things out and to find something sweet to shove his face into.

***

Dancing through heated, raucous crowds of humans and nonhumans can tucker anyone out a bit. Including our main group who panted and laughed as they went to the nearest bar.

“What'll ya have?” Asked the jorogumo minding the bar.

“Can I get a Wyvern's Havoc, please?” Eirwen asked.

The jorogumo used two of her hands to mix together several liquors, all of grey and violet tone. They were all shaken together until it poured out as a rolling churn. The last step was flicking in a flash of ryujin lightning which, after blinding everyone for a second, made the stormy drink hiss and bite.

“Cherub Cherice!” Faaria ordered, setting the money on the bar before the mix had even begun.

Three hands each grabbed cream liquer, rose-hued wine, and a feather-light champagne while a forth hand shaved ice into a glass. When a pillow of soft snow bedded the bottom of the glass, the rose was poured on top. The cream was poured on top of that. And, finally, the champagne was sprinkled on top.

Luciana was led over to the counter by her little alibrije. “Hold on, hold on...” She mulled over her desires for a bit. “One Ice Queen, please.”

A lot more ice was needed here. Ice cubes soaked in vodka, shaved ice mixed with sparkling liquor, snow stirred with frozen chips of blueberry and mint wine coolers.

The jorogumo slid the drink over to Luciana and turned to Rory. “What about you, honey? I bet someone fair like _you_ wants something like a Princess Pina or something.”

“Nothing like that, no.” Rory shook his head, “Just a tankard of goblin ale, if you have it.”

The jorogumo's mouth jaw hung to the floor. “What's a tiny thing like you doing wanting some goblin ale?! It's gonna knock you halfway to the ground!”

Nevertheless, she turned around and poured the drink. When she turned back around, she slammed down a tankard of shimmering red ale twice the size of a man's head. The head of the ale frothed and bubbled from the top and down the sides.

Everyone in the group waited and watched Rory take the tankard to his lips and drink.

And drink.

And _drink._

Until the last bit of head slid between Rory's lips and he slammed the empty tankard onto the counter.

“Where do you put it all?” Zach offered his friend a napkin, Rory giggling,

“All in the blood, I guess.”

***

“... And _every_ time she spanks me with the crops or paddles, it leaves a terrible rash!” An old, stuffy professor from one of the local universities adjusted his magenta, lavender, and purple ascot. “It isn't that I don't like our rougher playtimes, I just wish --”

“That there was a way around all the rashes and junk!” His short and stout goblin wife added with a pout on her lips; painted to match her husband's ascot.

Risco and Mo Shou, both minding the booth that they were sponsoring, had two different reactions here.

Risco looked like he was three steps away from jumping into the Cheer Cauldron and Mo Shou was just starting to feel that itch of one-too-many ill-informed questions.

Risco took the bullet. “Have you, maybe, considered not spanking with a crop or paddle?”

“How on earth is she supposed to go about it, then?!” The professor gawked. “By Trillium the Fair's sun-kissed--!” Risco cut himself off with a drink.

Mo Shou could taste her love's frustration. It wasn't that they were clocking in an all-nighter with Pride Fest this year; they had done it before. Hell, they had already helped many a curious couple and overwhelmed youth.

But the lot of them hadn't taken an hour to understand something as simple as 'maybe your husband has a leather and/or wood allergy'.

“The action of erotic spanking,” Mo Shou tried, once again, to explain, “Isn't dependent on having a utensil to use.”

The goblin looked up at the Mantida with a hand on her hip. “What else am I supposed to use, then?”

Risco held up a finger and, thankfully soon after, a volunteer swung by with a bottle of rum and several glasses. They tipped the bottle over to pour some out, but Risco slid a $10 into their pocket and said, “Leave the bottle.”

 

“USE YOUR HANDS, DAMN IT!”

“Risco!”

“Ooh~!”

The exchange, though explosive, was more or less washed out by the music being blasted for the event.

Fa Jiang swapped out one record for another so fast that his turntable set-up didn't even have to skip a beat.

“Let me hear you give it up for this year's Pride Fest!!” He shouted out, the crowds surging up into applause around him. “Make sure to get in line for the contests tonight!” He had opted to make hourly announcements now since he was sure that the attention-flow was coming to the stage.

Tchaikovsky had to be at least 95% of the reason why. Well, really, who could really tear their eyes away from an attractive young incubus working every delicious angle of his body on stage.

Tchaikovsky stopped short of rolling his hips when he felt Fa Jiang's eyes on him. “Is something being wrong?”

Fa Jiang changed the rhythm of the song before mouthing out. 'Are you holding up?'

Tchaikovsky thought about that question for a bit. He looked out over the crowds and, well, even though the sights of sex happening in several corners of the dance area was making him a bit queasy...

'I'm fine.' He mouthed back. He knocked a hoof against the floor and took a deep breath. “I'm fine.”

Fa Jiang didn't believe that. But when Tchaikovsky got back into routine, he put it away in his mind to ask about later.

 


	45. Pride Fest - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festivities continue on~!

* * *

 

_'What is that?'_

“That, my dear amorphous one, is a banner of showing the carnal attraction to those who share the same gender as one's corporeal form. Otherwise known as: a Gay pride flag.”

Silveste took a few steps, Blancher and Bruner standing guard on either side of their prince.

_'Oh! Prince Silveste!'_

“Yes?” Silveste looked to his back where Nephubos was sitting. The tentacle-bleb regarded everything around them in a wash of awe and intrigue. Luckily, Silveste was never one to turn down the opportunity to talk at long length.

Nephubos jabbed a tentacle towards what had their eyes' attention. _'What is this?'_

Silveste trotted over and tried to get a better look. It seemed to be a replica of some sort of street-front bar with the rainbow flag flying over its windows. The entire thing was made to show a rustic air of a time long passed. When Silveste was close enough, he could see a plaque near the piece. “'Many years ago, when the Freedom-Divided States were still United, the fight for equality for all was being fought day and night without pause. This structure, made to reflect a monument long-since lost to the annals of history, is our remembrance of the Stonewall Inn where many of the rights and liberties we celebrate on this night were fought and sacrificed for'.”

Nephubos slipped off of Silveste's back and crawled over to the structure. They placed a tentacle upon it. _'Humans are very... complicated.'_

Silveste's ears laid back. “Some of those complications transcend species.”

***

Incubi and Succubae marched down the street in various degrees of dress and fashion. They were sort of the hype-force for the upcoming floats. But, really, when would any sort of lust-demon pass up the opportunity to show off their assets.

As well as to carry the giant banner that read: 'With help from your neighborhood branch of the Amorist Party!'

Once they passed and the whistles and whoops died down a little, the floats started to roll through the streets. Oh, what a startling array of flowers and lights.

The lavender linguistics limo drove past, carrying scholarly humans and learned dragons and wizards.

Next came the Sappho Station. The float of roses and pink carnations carried a bunch of young women dressed in Grecian robes painting a statue of the famous poet herself.

Next came the Space Ace float. Several gargoyles, elves, and a few dragons were all dressed in some combination of purple, white, black, and silver. They were all tossing confetti of the same color-scheme onto the giant fake cake they had as well as on the audience.

The next float, though there were many more, brought the sense of party back into the swing of things. At first glance it was a simple float with sunflowers, daffodils, maybe a few stalks of cattails.

It moved closer and allowed everyone to see the full-scale of the structure as everyone on the float sang out.

“ _Young man, there's no need to feel down_

_I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground_

_I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town_

_There's no need! To! Be! Unhappy!”_

Yes, on a float shaped like a construction truck, it was the Bears making their appearance: all body hair and heavy-set frames. Whether they were dressed as construction-workers, police officers, steel-workers, or not, everyone aboard was determined to show that Pride Fest wasn't just a young creature's game.

“ _Young man, there's a place you can go_

_I said, young man, when you're short on your dough_

_You can stay there, and I'm sure you will find_

_Many ways! To! Have! A! Good! Time!_

_It's fun to stay at the YMCA!_

_It's fun to stay at the YMCA!_

_They have everything for you men to enjoy_

_You can hang out with all the boys~!”_

“I don't know what it is about this song!” Eirwen shouted over the music, “But it just makes me really happy!”

“Apparently it used to be a kind of war-chant!” Rory's explanations were mostly drowned out, but his lips could be read clearly, “For human men who were doing into dangerous fields like steel-work, the Naval forces, or even construction!”

Eirwen hummed, “Construction, huh?” His eyes drifted over to the passing float that had swathes of middle-aged male ogres, mining dwarves, and oni dancing around the construction of, well, construction tools made from flowers and colored rice paper.

He couldn't tear his eyes from the sweaty muscles, furred chests, and rough voices... The thought of the rough stubble of a beard scratching against the skin of his stomach thighs as someone descended towards –

Rory leaned over to Eirwen and took his hand, swinging him into a spin. “Doesn't your father work in construction?!”

Eirwen sighed as the thoughts of his father splashed him like cold water. “Well, that boner's gone. Yes, yes he's a foreman...”

***

Not everyone who visited the Eros and Mine booth was a complete clusterfuck of foreplay, however. Some were just... _new_ to all things sexual.

“So,” Began the dryad who was walking away with a bag containing his purchase, “The next time my husband asks for things 'a little bit rougher'--”

Mo Chou nodded, “Just bring out the blindfolds and the paddle. Start off gently and gauge his reactions.”

Risco peeked out behind Mo Chou's thorax with a grin. “Remember to start things off with your safe-word!”

They waved him off with all their blessings and hopes in regards to intimacy. “He was nice.” Said Mo Chou. Risco nodded,

“Yeah. Just like those two dragonesses who needed that diagram on eating pussy.”

***

“Alright Pride-Festers!” Fa Jiang shouted. He frowned with a mutter of, “Fuck, that sounds awful. Anyway!” The main stage was being fitted and glossed over for the next major event. Tchaikovsky leaned against the mixtable, inhaling a bottle of water along with two painkillers. His hooves were already starting to bark at him. “The Tom Tap Tournament is starting soon! So get your butch asses behind stage _now_!”

He ducked as a strap-on dildo was hurled towards him. “Whoever threw that, you're not getting it back!!” Yelled Fa Jiang.

There was a snow fairy taking a seat in the seating area. Her white hair was cut into a curly bob and, just like the rest of her species, she had a short puff of a tail above her backside that peeked out of her thigh-long coat.

The only splash of color against her bubbly yet icy motif was the bow of varying reds and pinks and whites in her hair.

She hadn't sat down for a second when she got a gruff call of, “Hey, sweetcheeks, whatchu up to?”

The snow fairy looked up to see Odysseus leering down at her. “How about telling me what time those legs open up?”

She frowned. “Um...” She pointed at her bow, “Obviously lesbian?”

“I could make you bi.”

The snow fairy grimaced and pointed to the seat next to her: empty save for a suit jacket. “I'm saving a seat for my S.O.?”

“Bet I could make you forget about her.”

The face that the snow fairy made could have turned cheese. “I'm just going to give you a head's up. My girlfriend is _not_ going to like you hitting on me.”

Odysseus scoffed. He flexed both of his arms and even juggled his pecs a bit for her. “Bet she can't do _this_!”

The snow fairy glanced away and then back to the boorish try-hard. “She's _literally_ right behind you.”

Odysseus snorted, “Whatever, like some dumb bull-dyke is going to do anything to me. Watch!”

He turned around to see the towering visage of a female oni glaring down at him. “Huh.” Odysseus looked at her muscles which easily matched, if not surpassed, his own. He turned back around. “Whatever. Everyone knows that no amount of scissoring can match a real, strong, di –”

***

Zach slurped up the last of a 32-ounce Frozen Long Island Iced Tea as he, Eirwen, and Rory walked along the shopping allies of the festival.

“Hm?” He blinked, completely unfazed by the amount of alcohol he had poured down so far, and looked at his empty cup. He shrugged and tossed the cup away.

It landed, without fail, into the nearest trash can.

Zach walked over to the nearest purveyor of pleasing punch and bought a large glass of something layered in several creamy hues. He didn't take a sip immediately. No, he had to stop Rory from being barreled over by a certain flying minotaur.

After, Rory walked over to where a slime was selling... They weren't bath-bombs. Well, not entirely. The salt and minerals inside were far too fine, and the whole things were surrounded by firm yet yielding jelly.

“Interested in a Renew Bomb?” The slime asked when Rory had been entranced by one of their wares.

Rory flushed a little. “Oh, um. Yes! They're very eye-catching. How about...” He looked over the Renew Bombs and decided... “Could I have that one, please?”

The slime extended themselves over their table. “Ooh, the Zenbonzakura? That's a nice choice: made from the finest sands and salts of Akatsuki's beaches, along with jellyfish jelly, mountain soil, and spring cherry blossoms!”

The slime carefully set the bomb in a small wooden box lined with grey crushed velvet and closed it up. Rory paid and then went back to join his friends.

“What did you buy?” Eirwen asked.

“Well, I--”

Eirwen's face immediately looked like he had one too many apples from his students.

“You look constipated.” Zach deadpanned. Eirwen grabbed his friends and turned them around; away from the major path.

Rory's eyebrows lifted. He gasped, “Is everything okay?”

“Just...” Eirwen glanced back, “Just pretend we're having a conversation, okay?”

“We _are_ having a conversation, Eirwen.” Zach deadpanned.

“Zach, _please_..!” Eirwen shut himself up and waited.

Just keep waiting... Waiting... Just keep wai –

“Your choice in dress _continues_ to assault my eyes, Eirwen.” Said Roderiche, Klickshe's kobold uncle as he and his dullahan lover walked by.

***

“Hey!” Shouted DFPD's receptionist/main dispatcher. They were chasing down three young imps who had snuck into the festival. “You brats are going to be shoveling sulfur for a week when I catch you!!”

Inspector Ruan flew through the crowds and past the receptionist until he landed in front of Abelard and Rebekah with a box. “Did someone order some self-fufilling stereotypes?”

“Ha ha, you're so funny.” Rebekah took one of the donuts. Abelard took the donut that held colors that matched his suit for the evening with it's raspberry, lavender, and blueberry.

“So, why aren't the two of you out enjoying the festivities?” Asked the wendigo.

Ruan shrugged, “Eh, I wanted the extra hours.”

“I don't need anyone gossiping to my father.” Rebekah added, “I'm happy to see that at least Izumi's taking the night off.”

Across from the security booth they watched the young captain in question being helped into a handstand so he could drink down the contents from a sparkly pink barrel.

Abelard chuckled. “To be young...”

Ruan pecked at his donut in his talons. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Abelard stopped just short of finishing his donut. “What was tha--”

“Surely you have someone special waiting for you at home, come on.” Ruan snapped his beak around the rest of his donut and wiped his beak with his wing.

“Nein, nein...” Abelard shook his head, “I don't have the time for such...” His burning gaze drifted off. “Things...”

Rebekah and Ruan quickly followed Abelard's wistful line of sight across the festival crowds where a group of young humans were dancing to the lastest batch of music. They all seemed to be having a good time, even the stoic-looking one with the bandana over his face.

“ _Him_?” Rebekah asked, Abelard shaking himself out of his daze.

“Vat? I mean, _what_? No! No, he's my landlord. Wonderful young man.”

They watched as a particularly rowdy duo of pegasi trotted by, splashing one of Zach's friends (the one in the bunny-eared hoodie) with their drink.

He sighed and shook his head but Zach didn't think twice about pulling his shirt over his head and offering it to him to dry off with. The show of hard contours of muscle had Ruan whistling,

“Nice, Abelard!”

“I am telling you,” Abelard insisted, “He is just a nice, respectable, admittedly attractive young man. Enough of this silliness.”

Rebekah and Ruan shared a look. “So, you admit that you find him attractive?”

“I!” Abelard opened his mouth. But.

Wait.

Damn it.

He couldn't very well argue that, could he?

***

The beastfolk on stage, she was of the feline sort, spun and clacked her feet against the floor in a flurry. She was the crowd-favorite to win the Tom Tap Tournament, not just because of her rhythmic skill, but with how she had the eyes of every female in the audience with how her sharp angles and narrow hips filled her suit.

She turned and motioned into a sliding, backwards stroll. With a wink to the crowd, she had several human girls swooning into a faint.

The show of butch elegance wasn't the only contest going on at the time. Though, if the universe had to be honest, it _was_ the more entertaining of the two.

“ _K.O.!!”_ Was the electronic announcement from the large array of screens playing the feed for that year's mega-hit fighting game.

“Fucking _bullshit_!!” The drider who had been playing hurled his fight-stick to the ground. Mira shrugged at his bitch-fit. “Always next year, fucker. Anyway, _next_!”

“Me next!” Some greasy fuck barged his way in. “If I win this,” They wheezed, choosing their character, “Then you'll totally go on a date with me, right? That's how it works in all of the magazines, heh...”

Mira rolled his eye. “Uh-huh, sure.” He was getting pretty hungry... When was the last time he _really_ ate something?

Mira's fingers were a blur over his fight-stick and he beat the brat with a ring-out in less than fifteen seconds.

“ _What_?!” The loser shook his head, “No way! This stupid game is _busted_!!” He jumped up and started yelling in the mimic's face. “Come on, you _have_ to go out with me! I've been reading through your KaijuKlickster account for the past week and I _know_ you don't have anybody! You _have_ to go out with me!”

Wow, this guy was _not_ doing anything to help his appetite. Mira leaned over the rim of his chest. He lifted an eyebrow. “I _have_ to go out with you, huh?”

The punk didn't say anything. To be honest, he probably didn't think that anyone would entertain his whining for this long.

Mira shrugged. “Okay.”

The greasy fuck blinked. He shook his head. “R-really?”

“Well, yeah. I mean...” Mira placed a finger on his lower lip and squirmed a little, “I thought that you...” He slowly opened both of his eyes, both spheres swirling and rolling in a miasma of color. “ _Wanted my attention all... to... yourself.”_

The punk felt his body rush through every facet of the fight or flight response in an instant. After that little hassle was dealt with like the prior day's laundry, Mira smirked. _“Do me a solid and roll me behind that fence for a second.”_

The greasy punk hefted Mira onto a wagon that the mimic had been using to get around the festival. He slowly pulled him behind the fence that displayed all of Pride Fest's sponsors.

Mira shut his chest, opening up to reveal the woesome maw of flesh and teeth that was his body. He lashed forward with his tongue and dragged the dazed idiot towards him. His eyes were still dancing with that sickening mixture of drugging color. Mira's teeth tore into the flesh of his thigh before the hypnosis began to struggle.

“What?!” He shook his head and saw his fate: screaming and struggling against the foul-smelling trap. But it was too late. Even the music from across the way was helping to cover up his screams and gurgles for breath as Mira completely tore into him.

Soon the only sound was that of crunching bone and the wet slick of flesh as fat, chewy innards were sucked down.

Mira rolled himself back to his station several moments later to see a new challenger waiting him. “Let's get this – URP!” He covered his mouth as a mortified blush covered his cheeks. “Damn it, all that grease is going to give me heartburn for a week!”

***

Rory bumped into a kiosk and called for another tankard of ale. His cheeks were rosy, not from drink, but from all that dancing. He was really just drinking to cool down at this point.

“Rory!”

“Mm?” Rory turned, lips already wet with the foam of his new drink.

It was Faaria stumbling over, Luciana and Eirwen keeping her up. “Where did Zach get to? He better not be leaving the festival to go screw around with the first businessman to compliment his ass!”

Rory paid for his drink and took it along with him. “He's not that flippant, Faaria.”

Faaria made an earnest but failed attempt to stand on her own. “Oh, come _on_!”

“No, really!” Rory insisted, “Remember that time we went to that golfing match? He was nice and attentive then!”

“Yeah, until he ended up ditching us afterwards to go off with that Lamassu who took 2nd place?”

Rory flushed a bit at the memory. “W-well, how about when we went to Last Paradise on the Right for Eirwen's birthday?”

“I...” Eirwen began, scratching the back of his head, “Think he ended up disappearing somewhere between slot-machines. We found him sneaking out of a closet with Zeus a few hours later, though.”

 

Said father of Olympus lifted his head from the veritable blanket of tits and ass he had gathered over the night. “You ever feel like someone's talking about you behind your back?”

“What? No...” Hermes, ever a loyal attendant to his employer, rolled his eyes. “With _your_ reputation? I couldn't _possibly_ imagine...”

Zeus frowned at the messenger-god. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“ _Never_ to _you_ , sir.”

 

Rory pursed his lower lip. “Well, he at least stays as long as he feels he's needed! If he was a flippant as you're saying, he would never even entertain the idea of hanging out!”

“Hey.”

Everyone jumped three feet into the air when Zach decided to make himself known. He was holding a paper bag that had some grease beginning to collect at the bottom. “We've been drinking a lot. We need to get some food in to even things out.”

“An excellent idea!” Rory nodded, looking to Faaria.

“I'm _starving_!” Luciana held out her hands and received a warm handful wrapped in soft-pressed foil. “Is this...” She sniffed at it and gladly ripped the packaging away. “A _real_ Sandwish?!”

“There's a stand here?” Eirwen was shocked. Sandwishes were usually only sold out of the Shooting Star Bazaar whenever it opened. They must have done a phantom set-up at the last minute.

Rory tore into fluffy white bread, silver lettuce, and a tender meat braised in a sauce that danced over every facet of every tastebud on the tongue. “Oh!” He giggled, covering his mouth as little sparks began popping in his mouth.

“Damn it, this is really good, I can't even lie.” Faaria took another bite of her Sandwish. She let her eyes watch the crowds: from the feline beastfolk who won the Tom Tap Tournament entertaining her groupies, the orcs discussing proper pelvic-thrusting, the young woman in the thin white robes slowly making her way towards them – “Oh no...” She groaned, but it was too late. Everyone watched to see that they had a guest.

The woman spoke, her voice carrying a dreamy, airy quality. “Are you guys enjoying the festival..?” Luciana tugged on her alebrije's leash.

“Mm-hm.” Eirwen tried, he really tried not to look up from his food. But of course he did and immediately regretted it afterwards. The girl wasn't very frightening, no thunderbolt or lightning.

But the heart shapes of her pupils, glowing just like every other member of the Amorist Party, always unnerved rather than comforted.

“Have you ever heard of the Amorist Party...?” She asked, stepping closer.

No one said anything; some of them even averted their eyes.

Luciana, holding her little alebrije up off the ground, asked, “What's the Amorist Party?”

“No!!” Eirwen and Faaria groaned. The girl smiled and the motion looked seven types of eerie no matter how one angled it.

“So cool..! We actually have a booth just a few stalls away where my sisters and brothers can tell you all about our beautiful community and outlook on life as shared with our blessed nonhuman compatriots..!” She reached into her satchel bag, woven from river reeds and lotuses, and pulled out two books. “There's also these amazing books you can read..!”

While everyone else was looking like they were stuck at a family dinner with that one pyramid-scheme-selling aunt (save for Zach, of course), Rory walked forward.

“Rory...” Zach warned, voice even as always.

Rory took one of the books and flipped through it. “I can't promise that I'll join you,” Said Rory, “But, with your permission, I'll gladly take this to read.”

The girl's smile grew wide. It fell for a second, not in fear or anger. She tilted her head as she looked at Rory.

“Eep!” Rory yelped as she took both of his hands within her own.

She looked at him dead-on with those glowing hearts. “Are you... royalty or something..?”

Rory slowly shook his head. “Just a simple bookseller.”

She tilted her head again. “That's so weird... You have... something about you that reminds me of Princess Tris from the Wishful Isles... Oh well...” She let go and curtsied before she walked off towards other potential converts.

“ _Ugh!_ ” Faaria shook her head, “I get that they helped to sponsor this year's festival, but do they have to be so _creepy_?”

“I wouldn't even call them that.” Said Eirwen, “They're just so earnest the second you give them your time.”

Zach walked over to Rory with a, “I still think the Cultists are worse with it.”

***

A young lamia was slithering down the roads of Aquacia. Her massage therapist always knew the best places to get to for unwinding her tense muscles. Definitely worth the $80/month subscrip--

A human jumped out of the windows a nearby restaurant with a large din of shattering glass. They turned towards the naga, their upper head obscured by the horrific underwater effigy of a mask they wore. “DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT OUR LORD AND SAVIOR CTHULHU?!?!”

“What the actual fuck?!” The lamia screamed, slithering away from the pamphlets and charms the Cultist was shoving in her face.

***

Rory shrugged, carefully placing the book in his bag with his other Pride Fest goodies. “She wasn't that bad. Besides,” He puffed himself up and held a finger in the air besides him, “'For knowledge to spread, one must sometimes make themselves uncomfortable'.”

Luciana snapped her fingers, “That's... I know I've heard it somewhere before.”

Rory nodded, his face alight in the smile of finding a friend in one's interest, “Yes! It's from one of the few copied portions of Princess Qibilah's _'Tome of Worldly Travels and the Pursuit of Outwordly Wisdoms'_ that scholars have been able to translate!”

“Oh boy,” Eirwen chuckled, “You let him get started...”

***

The Drag Queen Contest had gone off without a hitch, save for a few hissy-fits and cat-fights. But the final three competitors soon stood flaunting their stuff as the chupacabra serving as proctor walked up to one of them.

“And, uh, what would _you_ do with the earnings from this contest, er...” He squinted at his cue card, “Cocoacella LaBella Sequin Laton?”

He was taken aback by the impressive bustline of the vampire drag queen in front of him. It was as forward heavy as her hair was top-heavy. “ _Well_ ,” Cocoacella began, licking at her fangs, “The first thing I would do is donate half to charity for all the future little queens-in-training out there. As it would be the _right_ thing to do--”

“Talkin' out of her _ass_...” Muttered the Shang Yang drag queen who was next.

“You know what?” Cocoacella whipped her head around and hissed. She quickly made sure that her hair was okay and snapped, “Since you _obviously_ need financial help more than _I_ do,” She reached in between her tits and pulled out a nickel. Cocoacella tossed it and it landed straight between the Shang Yang's eyes. “There! That's my donation to the 'Sad-Ass-Ho' Foundation!”

“That's it!!” The Shang Yang flew over and tackled Cocoacella to the floor; pecking at her as Cocoacella clawed at the rain-bird's feathers.

The chupacabra shook his head and hoped that no one in the audience was getting rowdy.

“So...”

He turned to the last contestant on stage: a nue drag queen batting her eyelashes at him. “Since the other finalists are otherwise, well, 'occupied'--”

“OH! Those eyelash-extensions cost 3,000 _each_!!”

“AIYA~! MY IMPLANTS~!”

 


	46. Pride Fest - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Festivities draw to a slow close.

* * *

 

 

Eighteen baking sheets covered in macarons were shoved into an oven.

“Be gentle with them, you idiots!”

“Yes Chef!”

Chef Ernest scowled as he walked through the tent that Cara Mellice had set aside for his students to bake in for the festival. It stretched across an expanse of road the length of a sports field and obscured the outside celebrations via the thin curtains spun from sugar and licorice.

“Hot chocolate coming through!” Saccharin trilled as they rushed by with a pot of tempered chocolate. Silas slithered back a bit to let the gummy fiend through before he went back to smoothing ice cream out over the chilled slab of marble he had been assigned to.

He picked up an ice shaver and, keeping his motions delicate while keeping speed in mind, he began shaving the ice cream into curled straws which were quickly placed into a frozen bowl until they were needed.

Silas popped the last straw in and grabbed the pistachio ice cream base that was due to be made into a sea of tiny dots. He dipped a ladle into the off-green mixture and sprinkled it into a bowl that had been treated with the breath of a frost dragon.

Before the drops made it through the misty breath they had already frozen into the perfect pearls he was aiming for.

“Oh, you made a single cup's worth, did ya?”

Silas stiffened up as Chef Ernest inspected his work. “Now try and do something worth my time and finish off that mixture so we can get a damn move on!!” He cuffed Silas in the back of the head and moved on.

Silas sighed and got back to work.

“..Okay...”

He looked to his left to see Susannah drizzling ganache over a table's worth of truffles.

All baby blue, cotton candy pink, and cream cheese white.

'Huh.' He thought to himself, 'She must be on some kind of pastel kick right now...'

“Eyes on your work!” Chef Ernest shouted. “I want this next selection on front lines for the next... Next...”

Several student-chefs looked up from their work to dare a glance at whatever had calmed the savage rage of their teacher.

The rest of them kept working, already having an idea of what was happening when the scent of caramel wafted over their noses.

***

Cara Mellice playfully tugged Chef Ernest behind the tented structure.

“What is it?” Chef Ernest gruffed out. The anger behind the sound was so hollow.

Cara Mellice smiled up at him. Not saying a word. The molten gold of his eyes spoke volumes.

Chef Ernest had to scrub a hand down his face to steady himself.

“Damn it!” He hissed, that dark gluttonous part of his mind beating out both anger and rationality. He tore his teeth into Cara Mellice's neck, only a few scant motions from leaving a scar.

“Mmph..!” Cara Mellice worried her bottom lip in between her teeth. She rocked her hips upwards, grinding against Chef's thigh.

But...

No.

Chef pulled back before he could sink too far. He licked the slight bits of caramel and chocolate from his teeth. “I don't... need you to protect me.”

Cara Mellice, now male, only chuckled. He pressed a kiss to Chef's cheek and pulled away. “But I will.” Cara Mellice said and he stepped out into the open.

***

The air was heavy with partying, hints of sex, and music. But, even so, humans made sure to clear the way whenever Trillium the Fair rode through on his Fae Ewe.

Very rarely did he venture to places so affected by the touch of man. But, as long as his feet didn't have to touch stone or tar roads, he could be up to the task.

At least...

He frowned when he smelt cream, vanilla, and roasted sugar coming towards him. He sighed.

> _“Unicorn horn and Pixies' scars, you really do annoy me most by far...”_

“Hello to you too, Trillium.” Cara Mellice didn't budge. “Are you sure that you don't have business... elsewhere?”

Trillium cut his eyes away from the deity in front of him.

> _“You overstep yourself.”_

Cara Mellice still refused to move. He sighed. He adjusted his gown. Finally, he said, “He doesn't want to see you.”

Trillium's smile stayed enigmatic. More cursed than that of Mona Lisa's but holding a dozen times a dozen more secrets.

Trillium tapped his mount in the side with his staff, the Fae Ewe turning around. Cara Mellice watched him leave.

Now, the intelligent creature knows that the universe and its siblings are all truly composed of a system of checks and balances. In one universe, an empire has been saved from total annihilation by the grace of bounty but, due to one stubborn ass, doom overcomes it in the blink of an eye.

“Is this...”

Trillium was already ten paces away. He had cut the annoyances of this interaction out of his mind; he was beyond the hindrances.

“How your _precious_ Dama would have wanted you to carry yourself?”

The back of Cara Mellice's throat was seized in a vice-like hold: pointed nails digging into him and stinging like the most deadly winter's ice.

The smile upon Trillium the Fair's face had become all upon a falsehood.

> _“Listen well.”_

Trillium hissed,

> _“And know that the only reason that I haven't sliced your neck in ten-and-twenty places is because Ernest is so taken with you. So heed this, you miserable nectar-glutted tart!”_

Trillium let go and turned around to climb upon his mount. He turned back with a smile.

> _“Mind your tongue.”_

Cara Mellice watched Trillium the Fair leave. His smile had long since warped into a frown: the gold of his lips burning from his spite.

What was a fae to the honey tree?

> _“The fire that can bring it to its knees.”_

Trillium the Fair answered just before he was out of sight.

***

Rory stepped out of the restroom and gladly took a complimentary bottle of hand cream being offered by a young thriae. Washing one's hands always managed to dry out the hands something awful.

He saw Eirwen and Luciana talking about something in the crowd and made his way over.

Something large, chilly, and scaley smacked his ass making him yelp and whip around. “E-excuse me!”

Beastfolk were some of the more common types of nonhuman in Dama Fristad. Especially since the travesty of the Dubai Massacre several centuries ago.

Still, Rory found himself stepping backwards away from the seven-foot mountain of ridges and scales; from the long mouth full of sharp teeth and the leering yellow eyes that were keyed in on him.

“Gade ou vlope tankou yon bagay dous ap tann pou m'gen yon gou...”

“I'm terribly sorry,” Rory continued stepping backwards, “I'm awfully rusty on my Creole, but if you need assistance, I would be glad to find someone who c – Eep!”

Rory found himself in the thick arms of a similar Alligator beastfolk. Though, thankfully (or not) this one seemed a bit more multilingual. “Lookie here. Wasn't expectin' my brother to find somethin' so sinful strollin' 'round these parts...”

Rory twisted away but the motion was in vain against the strength of the creature holding him. “Please, I – I really should be going.”

“Ki kote ospitalite ou, gason?” The first brother leaned in, his playful growl shadowed by his curtain of dreadlocks.

The second brother agreed. “He's right. I thought you fancy Dama Fristad humans were all about bein' nice and welcomin'...”

“I...” Rory turned his head away from the hot words against his neck. “I don't...”

“Excuse me.”

The two gator brothers were left blinking with empty arms. Rory blinked as he found himself in a more familiar set. “Zach!”

“Mm-hm.” Zach set Rory down and finished off the drink in his hand before tossing the cup away. It landed perfectly in a nearby trash can. “You okay?”

Rory rubbed his wrist and gave a nod. “Y-yes. I think there was...” He gave a nervous chuckle, “Just some mistranslation going on there.”

Zach's face didn't change from it's neutral state. Not that it could have with that bandana still over his face. “If you don't want someone touching you, tell them.”

Rory dropped his eyes to the ground. “I...”

“Hey ou la!!”

The two gator brothers marched right over to them. Zach urged Rory behind himself. “You two are on the louder side.” He said to the brothers.

The second brother gave Zach a once-over. Nothing special, just some punk trying to get in the way of them catching some prime tail. “This don't got nothin' to do wit you. Go on!”

Zach gave a slow blink. “I think it does.”

The first brother snapped his jaws in a mighty crack right in front of Zach's face. Judging from the lack of any reaction, the effect was greatly missed. “Ki moun ou panse ou ye, gason? Gen kèk kalite knight? Soti la!”

Zach held a finger out to the side. An event-volunteer swung by and said, “Can I... help you?”

“What do you have?” Zach asked, taking the drink menu that the volunteer had.

Both brothers and even Rory watched with incredulous looks as Zach disengaged with the conflict entirely to look through the drink menu. He finally decided, “Can I get a Demon Drill? Thanks.” The volunteer hadn't even escaped to a several foot distance when the second brother roared into Zach's face.

“Oh, I am _truly_ sorry! Are we being a _hindrance_?!”

“If you don't stop bothering him, then, yeah.”

“Zach, watch it!” Rory shouted. Zach moved to the side to dodge the lashing of a tail. At the same time, his drink arrived.

He paid for it, drank half of the spiraling mixture, and then asked, “Listen, there's only an hour or so left before Pride Fest is over...”

'And I still haven't gotten any dick...'

“So what will it take for you two to get the hint and back off from my friend?”

The first brother was still seething. But the second... Oh, the second had gotten an idea.

“You think you hot shit, ah?” He smirked, “Alright...”

***

Fa Jiang was just about to drop the bass in his current set on stage when Tchaikovsky flew over to hand him a note. “Fucking serious – _Fine!!_ ” He lowered the music and spoke into the mic, “Hey! How about one last contest, huh folks?”

Everyone who had been dancing slowed down to get a better listen before Fa Jiang continued, “Then how about heading over to the Pit of a Hundred Colors! We have some morons who need to settle a shitty score!”

“Fa Jiang...” Tchaikovsky shook his head. Fa Jiang shrugged,

“Not sorry.”

“Ooh!” Gahiji bounced on his paws, “That should be fun! Come on, Fane!”

The phantom rolled his eye. “Oh _yay_ , nothing like watching two drunk, sweaty jock-holes flopping around in some paint.”

“Exactly!” Gahiji grabbed Fane and tossed him onto his back. “Oh, hey! There's Silveste and Nephubos!” Gahiji waved to get the unicorn's attention. “Hey! How was your first Pride Fest?”

Nephubos gave a happy trill and pointed to the wagons of books and pamphlets and souvenirs that Blancher and Bruner were pulling behind them. _'These festivities are a trove of information! This one has plenty to read and research on for several lunar cycles!'_

“Is that Nephubos?”

“Shit!” Fane grabbed some of Gahiji's mane and covered himself the best he could.

Abelard walked over and joined their little party on the way to the Pit of a Hundred Colors. “I'm glad to see you all safe and enjoying the festival.”

“It has presented itself as a memorable assortment of information and celebrations!” Silveste chuckled with a flair.

Abelard chuckled as well. He leaned on Gahiji's foreleg when they finally arrived at the large wrestling pit where paints of all colors were being poured in. “I wonder what kind of...”

He saw a familiar shock of bone.

“Was ist...” He moved Gahiji's hair aside and pulled. “Fane!”

“Damn it, would you ease off?!”

“'Ease off'?!” Abelard sputtered, “What on earth are you doing here? You are _blatantly_ under-aged for a festival like this!!”

“Fuck _off_!” Fane fought against Abelard's hold, “You're not my fucking dad!!”

Gahiji, Nephubos, and Silveste were doing their best to stay out of the conflict. But Nephubos noticed something. Their three eyes blinked at the colors of Abelard's suit and the colors of Fane's hoodie.

_'Are they both...'_ They turned to Gahiji and Silveste, who nodded.

But Abelard was too incensed to give notice. “If you wanted to go to a festival today I could have taken you to Pride Fest Day! You never tell me anything!”

“Oh, I'm fucking sorry!” Fane mocked Abelard's concern, “I didn't realize that my name was fucking 'Abel' and that you were my _God-damned_ keeper!”

Abelard rubbed his temples. “I'm not arguing this with you anymore. Come on, we are going home.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had his keys and phone. “Where are they?”

“Presenting the challengers!” Apollo, god of light, sport, music, and that evening's Pit referee, called out. “We have The Brothers La Burneau!”

The two gator brothers made a show of flexing their impressive arms and chests before tearing off their clothes, leaving only their underwear.

“They'll be going up against one of our own savage natives--”

“You're not funny.”

“ _Fuck you_ , you slept with my dad – I mean! Give it up for Zach Bruys!”

What was scattered applause when Zach walked into the pit absolutely _detonated_ into chaos when Zach pulled his shirt over his shoulders and pulled his shorts down: leaving a broad frame of toned muscles to be ogled at and an ass that pulled one's eyes on a journey over it's curve.

“And _another_ thing!” Fane was still venting, “You have some fucking nerve – Hey, what?” Abelard had long since let go of him. “Hey! I'm not done!”

Abelard moved closer to the ring. He wasn't ogling, no, he...

Huh.

A better look was always nice.

Zach bent over to dip his hand into the paint, coming back up with a litany of rainbows and polka-dots.

“Begin!” Apollo shouted. Zach snapped into focus.

The Brothers La Burneau rushed forward, jumping into the air and spiking into the paint. The ridges on their backs and tails cut through the liquid as they swam. They had their target, dead and center.

Zach stayed neutral. He took in his environment:the paint came up to his thighs in certain areas, the ropes of the ring were stretchy and held some bounce...

The first brother pierced the surface. He was slick with paint and roared, hurtling towards Zach. Right at the moment of impact, Zach ducked. He grabbed the brother's shoulder and his hip before hurling him towards the ropes.

“Urk!” The gator beastfolk choked from his crash against the rope. It snapped him back where he was promptly clothes-lined by Zach: landing in the paint with a huge splash.

The crowds cheered and whooped, Zach rolling a kink out of his shoulder. He found the roar of battle hurtling towards him once more. The younger of the La Burneaus grabbed Zach and swung him around: letting go at full-speed to send him flying until he landed with a technicolor splash across the pit.

Zach propped himself on his arms, hair and face dripping with paint.

The young La Burneau cackled and dove into the paint, streaking right towards the human.

“Come on, Zach!” Faaria shouted and pumped her fist into the air, “Turn those two into boots and purses!”

The beastfolk leapt out of the water and landed on his target. Zach held his arms at bay just a few inches above himself.

“You strong, boy!” The younger La Burneau growled, not trying to betray just how much force he was pushing down with.

Zach shrugged. “Decent workout regimen, I guess.”

Zach flipped them over so that he was on top. Their bodies were beyond slippery with the paint and oil so the second La Burneau slipped out of Zach's grip. Zach grabbed him again and flipped him onto his stomach. He pulled his lashing tail up and over.

“Shit!” The second La Burneau hissed, “Le'go of me!”

“Nope.” Zach said, looking towards the display screen once everyone started counting:

“Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Eight!”

“O non ou pa fè sa!”

The first La Burneau charged forward and tackled Zach off of his brother. He he held the struggling human around his stomach, laughing, “Ou nan sou tèt ou, sha!”

He held Zach, waiting for his brother to stand up, but...

Well, damn.

Without those baggy clothes, this human wasn't too hard on the eyes. Not to mention that the firm ass writhing against his crotch was doing all sorts of nice things for his imaginati –

He yelped as Zach slipped out of his grasp and flipped him onto his back.

Zach went in for another pin but his ankles were caught by the gator he had just pinned.

The second La Burneau swam over to force Zach to the ground once more; taking full advantage of his brother's tricks.

He... didn't account for two things. The poor sap. The first being that Zach wasn't going down. He was holding the other gator at bay with a long-armed defense that didn't promise any leeway. The second was that the force of his brother and the human going to blows was pushing his head further into the paint.

With Zach's ass nestled into his open mouth. The older La Burneau didn't intend on biting down. He was a good ol' Southern gentleman to the core, such trickery was not his forte.

But the more his little brother struggled, the more he knew that there was a time and place for propriety.

No, he wasn't going to bite down... He opened the clear inner-film under his eyelids so he could see his target. He could hold his breath far longer than was needed for what he wanted to do.

The older La Burneau pulled one side of Zach's underwear aside.

Zach glanced down but kept his struggle strong.

The older La Burneau was treated to the sight of a deliciously tight-looking hole nestled between the cheeks of the human's ass.

Perfect.

Up above the paint, Zach took in the weight of conflict. He could easily get the other gator down with a pin but he had to wonder about how to handle the one in front of him.

Wait.

What was – Oh, fuck. Ooh, _fuck!_

He looked down at the submerged gator. “What the hell are you doing?”

The older La Burneau lashed his tongue over Zach's asshole. He could feel the tremor in the little punk's thighs.

Fucking pillow-princesses...

“Seven!” The crowd counted down around them, “Six!” There were murmurs of awe in the audience for Zach's leg muscles being able to keep the bulky behemoth pinned for so long. No one seemed to figure out that he was trying his damndest not to rock back into the mouth eating him out.

“What is my brother doin' back there?” The second La Burneau grinned. He was genuinely curious but his appreciation of his new advantage was winning out.

“He has a wicked tongue on him, I'll tell you that.” Zach glanced down again. It was a miracle he was able to focus on something as mundane as a wrestling match when he had a handsome, Southern beastfolk doing unmentionable things to his asshole.

He just had to make it five more seconds.

“Five!”

The older La Burneau grabbed Zach's thighs and pulled his asscheeks wide. With the aid of the slick paint, he pressed his thick tongue into the human's ass as far as possible: pulling back to swirl around the rim before diving back in.

“Four!”

Zach had no choice. He had to keep his focus on the strength in his arms and the best way to go about it was to keep his mind on other things aside from the tongue in his ass.

“Three!”

Why couldn't Dr. Bodicen eat his ass with as much vigor as this gator was?

“Two!!”

It was a shame that Apollo had managed to barge into that closet where Zach had been 'swapping tales' with Zeus. But, then again, better Apollo than Hera. Zach _really_ didn't need to be turned into a spider or a ferret or anything.

“ONE!!”

“Thank. God.” Zach hissed. He dislodged himself from the older La Burneau, keeping his waist submerged long enough to readjust his underwear as well as get a decent enough cover of paint to pull attention away from his hard-on.

“Just like _that_ we're down to a one-on-one, folks!” Apollo called out to the audience, “Let's see if this alligator can bring some sunlight back into my life with a win!!”

Zach turned to call out to Apollo, “It was one time.”

He was tackled into the paint with all the force of a freight truck and none of the braking-power. The second La Burneau had him pinned, panting out, “You may have gotten the best of my brother,” He forced Zach's arms to his sides with his thighs, “But I'm a different beastie altogether!”

Abelard pulled himself onto the fence surrounding the pit, “Zachary!!”

“Hold on, there!” Rebekah and Ruan pulled him back, “I know your father's instinct is strong but reel it in a bit!!”

Underneath the paint, Zach had his eyes shut tight to prevent any paint from getting in. This was a great predicament: pinned underneath a big Bayou hunk of a crocodile –

“Gator!”

– Whatever. With a diminishing amount of time to salvage the situation. Well...

Hm.

He could feel fabric in front of his mouth. And his current record for holding his breath, the last time he had checked, had been ten minutes.

“Ten!” The crowds started counting. “Nine!”

Fane rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Great! Not only is he shit at keeping up that condo, he can't even get his way out from under two leather bags!”

Rory clasped his hands together. His brows were fitted in worry. “Come on, Zach...”

The older La Burneau made it to the side of the pit where he snatched a towel off of the table. He roughly stripped the paint off of his face and swallowed half a bottle of water just to spit the hue-tinged contents out of his mouth.

The second La Burneau just had to keep this human down for a few more seconds. A pity. Had they met under different circumstances, he could have easily seen this human as a companion. His mouth was certainly smart enough for it. With his monotone snark, full lips, and tongue lapping against his dick _through his briefs –_

“Oh _no_ you don't!” The second La Burneau grit down at the human underneath him. Beneath the paint, Zach sucked at the beastfolk's dick as it grew from the pouch in his crotch. The fabric soon grew taught as his erection pulled against it.

“I ain't sure what you getting' at, but I am much stronger than ma frere!”

There was something about the way that the human was moving his tongue over his dick. And, no, not just in that way.

Were those...

Letters?

What the hell kind of – Wait. Was he saying something?

The strength of any reproductive creature was to be the ability to focus on anything else while getting head. The second La Burneau gnashed his teeth together while still catching those letters.

'A'

'R'

'E'

'Y'

'O'

'U'

'D'

'O'

'I'

'N'

'G'

'A'

'N'

'Y'

'T'

'H'

'I'

'N'

'G'

'L'

'A'

'T'

'E'

'R'

“Boy, you are a _freak!_ ” The second La Burneau wheezed. His grip slipped at a particularly strong swallow, making his attempt at recovering his advantage a clumsy maneuver.

“Six!”

The second La Burneau, confident in his victory, decided to humor the kid. “Bet you swallow, don't you?”

Zach shrugged before moving his tongue.

'W-H-E-N T-H-E M-O-O-D P-E-R-M-I-T-S'

Images of the quiet human moaning up a storm, all the while choking on his thick cock and struggling to eat his giant load filled his vision as the audience had reached 'Five' in their countdown.

Damn, this human had nice thighs. Especially the way they wrapped around his head and tightened – Wait, _no!!_

Zach sent the beastfolk flying with his thighs and swallowed the bit of paint and sweet and salt that had collected in his mouth. He surged forward, catching him before he landed and pulling his head into a lock.

He hooked his thighs, and lifted the gator into the air. Zach jumped up and then landed, forcing the second La Burneau onto his head in a full vertical stint. His tail went stiff as a board at the impact. Zach moved away and, without him, the gator's body fell to the floor. One look at his face showed that he was alive, at least.

Practically in a coma, but alive at least.

“And that's a TKO, Ladies and Gentleman!!” Apollo announced, hurling his mic to the ground, “God _damn it_ , can't count on beastfolk for _anything_!”

Zach stood up from his conquest, punching a fist into the air to herald the applause. “Fuck yeah!!” Fane jumped onto the fence, whooping and hollering. He cut himself off and looked to see his fellow 1685 residents watching him. Gahiji, in particular, had a grin that seemed more at home on one of those ancient internet pictures of a cat wanting a cheeseburger.

“Tch, whatever...” He hoped back down and sunk into his hoodie, “At least he's not a complete loser, I guess.”

In the sea of applause, Faaria lightly punched Rory in the shoulder. “Looks like Zach is still out there defending your honor, huh?”

“I...” Rory trailed off. He looked back to the pit where two event-volunteers were helping Zach wash off the worst of the paint before they could show him where the showers were.

***

“Ladies, gentlemen, all aspects between and beyond!” Tchaikovsky announced as he flew over the crowds surrounding the main stage of Pride Fest. It was high-time to wrap things up. Ra would be bringing day to Dama Fristad in a mere few hours and everyone would have to go back to the duller colors of day-to-day life. “We are hoping that you have been enjoying this year's festive-making! For our last spectacle of the evening, please to be welcoming,” The incubus flew backstage as the curtains opened, “Worombi: the Rainbow Serpent!”

Cheers and applause poured through the festival-space, thick like winter's blankets and testifying to the density of the crowds.

The curtains finished their retreat to reveal the massive frame of a coiled serpent. Her scales shimmered with the constantly shifting spectrum of a rainbow. From the top of her head, fringes grew long like hair and fell around her mighty neck.

“Such a gorgeous collection of rainbows!!” She called out, the skies crackling with rainbow shocks of light and bringing forth a new swathe of applause from the crowds.

She didn't need a microphone. Her voice was more than strong enough to roll into the deserts that surrounded the city-nation. "Some of you probably don't believe me. But, trust in my words, whether you fly all the colors... Whether you stick to the reds... If your colors or more stark... Or if they're colors of transformation..."

She gave a flick of her tail. "Rainbows make the world shine that much brighter! You! All! Make this world shine so! Much! _Brighter!"_

Fa Jiang stepped back from his mixtable and waited for Tchaikovsky to flutter over to him. The incubus quickly landed with a bundle in his arms that he unwrapped as if it were the Ark of Covenant. It was a keytar: all cherrywood and golden keys with a length of Chinese script along its length.

Fa Jiang quickly grabbed it and, after a quick quality-check, he started playing. The song was slower, calmer than the bombastic flair that had been thrumming during the festival's entirety. 

 

_"I see you standing_

_There before me..."_ Worombi began, 

_"I see you working_

_Tirelessly..._

 

_To be a cog_

_in the machine..._

 

_My lovely star~!"_

In the audience, Eirwen nearly jumped out of his skin as Faaria pulled Zach and Rory closer: to fill out their little group.

 

_"They tell you_

_'stop standing out'..._

 

_The pain would stop_

_If you weren't so 'proud'..._

 

_To stifle color_

_Snuff it out..._

 

_My timid star~!"_

Silas, from the Keebalah Tech tent, blinked when he felt something grab his hand. He followed slender fingers up to where Susannah was watching the concert: worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. 

He wished... he knew what was bothering her. He moved closer to her and lay his tail around her shoulders. 

Back on stage, Worombi swayed from left to right, still belting out, 

 

_"Keep your Rainbow_

_In mind!_

 

_Ne-ver_

_Leave~_

_It Behind!_

 

_And know that I..._

_Love you..."_

She flipped her fringes over her shoulder and clasped her claws together. 

_"Be you young_

_Or old in vein..."_

From atop his mount, Trillium the Fair had regained his enigmatic smile. He hadn't really needed to come here today. Too many crowds of unrefined creatures.

 

_"Be you sire_

_Or be you dame..."_

The then-female Cara Mellice wrapped her arms around Chef Ernest's shoulders. How she wished he would stop worrying about the temperamental demon in their midst.

 

_"Whether your body_

_Stayed the same..._

 

_Look, there_

_It's you..."_

Backstage, Tchaikovsky leaned against the wall; his hands covering his face. Things were different now. He had made it. Things were different now.  _He_ was different now. Right?

 

_"Keep your Rainbow_

_In mind!_

 

_Ne-ver_

_Leave~_

_It Behind!_

 

_And know that I..._

_Love you..."_

Worombi slithered to center-stage and made sure that all eyes were on her. She shot up into the night skies like a freight train, her opalescent form shifting and rolling with each turn. Higher, she rose. Higher and higher as the music built up. When Fa Jiang got to a flair she roared into the heavens, making the small gathering of clouds release curtains of rain. 

But this rain... It fell upon the earth, upon the citizens of Dama Fristad, as if rainbows with their myriads of colors.

 

_"Let Hate_

_Dissipate!"_ Worombi sang upon her body making it back to the festival space. She floated above the ecstatic audience and watched her rainbows continue to pour down.

 

_"Let knowledge till the earth_

_And make this world a new place!_

 

_Let Hate!_

_Disintegrate!_

 

_Let the past be left alone..."_

 

She landed back on the stage. Shaking her head, her fringes sending more sparks of color here and there as she sang,  

_"Let Hate_

_Fade away!_

 

_Your heart is beautiful_

_Let it be the key to your cage!"_

 

Rory had to stop himself from jumping when he felt something rest upon his head. But it was merely Zach using his head as a fluffy chin-rest.  

_"Let Hate_

_Die today!_

 

_Flood the world with patience and LOVE~!"_

Fa Jiang pulled the last few notes of the song out of the keytar, pointing at Worombi who gladly belted out, 

_"Keep your Rainbow_

_In mind!_

 

_Ne-ver_

_Leave~_

_It Behind!_

 

_And know that I..._

_Love you...”_

 

The audience, the entire festival, everyone within earshot erupted into applause. “Thank you, Dama Fristad!” Worombi shouted, “Stay beautiful! Spread your love anytime you can!”

*** 

The event-volunteers started pushing brooms through empty cups, used condoms and dental dams, and partially-eaten food. Everyone was slowly making their ways home or to convenient places to hookup now that Pride Fest was coming to a close.

Luciana called for a ride to get her and Faaria home, the latter having drunken _way_ too much in celebration of Zach's victory.

Eirwen wanted to stop by his parents' before he headed back to Fae Rock so he had left right after the concert to avoid traffic.

Really, then, that left Zach and Rory.

“It's very pretty!” Rory said, regarding the medal that Zach had been given for winning the wrestling match.

Zach sent off a text on his phone before looking at the tie-dyed velvet and the golden circlet hanging from it. “I guess it is.”

Rory simply stood there, watching the crowds. It really had been a lovely Pride Fest this year. 

“So...”

Rory knew that tone. He tried his best to hide the frustration drenching his sigh. “Are you heading out?”

Zach nodded.

Rory scratched the tip of his boot against the ground. “Well, I hope you had a good time --”

“Did you want me to stay?”

Rory looked up into Zach's eyes as the words were spoken.

Such a handsome face... But those cold, listless eyes...

 

_With a screech, something that shouldn't have been there slithered into the darkness; a serpent slick with dark oil._

_Rory's glasses had always been too big for his face as a child. He pushed them back up his nose and stood up on skinny legs and knobby knees._

_When his eyes got used to the new bit of clarity, he looked over to see..._

_That same slick darkness dripped off a small fist that clenched tight with strength that did not match the small frame it was attached to._

_That's right... Rory had asked Zach to walk home with him since his parents had told him, in no shortage of words, that they couldn't be bothered._

_Thus, two eight year-olds walked down the streets of CenterPointe and provided a candy-sweet opportunity for anything with a dark and vile heart._

_“Here.”_

_Rory looked down to see Zach offering him his backpack._

_“Oh. Th-thanks Zach.”_

_Once Rory had it back on his shoulder, they continued walking until they heard the first bouts of drunken screaming and breaking glass._

_Both boys looked up at the dilapidated front of Pecan Pavillion. The smudged, cracked windows. The rusted, muddy stairs. The broken doorknob. Packages sitting next to the front door: covered in cobwebs and mildewing from a dozen past mornings._

_The shattering of ceramic hit the nearest interior wall. “Where the 'ell's that little shit?! Someone needs to get me more rum or I'm bustin' 'eads!!”_

_Rory sighed. “Guess I should get in.”_

_“Mm.”_

_Rory knew that the sound wasn't made in any malice. Zach had always been a bit... off. Cold. But he was his friend and a little ice wasn't going to stop them from conversing! “Are you heading out?”_

_Zach nodded._

_Rory scratched the tip of his shoe against the ground. “Well... thanks again for walki --”_

_“Did you want me to stay?”_

_“Huh?”_

_Rory looked at Zach. The question... it was genuine, right? Yes, of course. The arguing from inside, getting louder every few seconds, made him want to tell – ask! Zach to take him to his own home._

_To 1685 Blightblossom Lane. Where things were quiet and he could read as much as he wanted and he didn't have to cook unless he wanted to and no one threw things at him and –_

_But._

_Little Rory shook his head, catching his glasses as they fell off his nose. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't --”_

 

“-- Want to keep you.” Older Rory in the present space finished. “You have a good night, Zach.”

Zach nodded and turned to make his way to the nearby Air Tram.

Rory was left alone. As he usually was outside of his shop and whenever Zach and Eirwen went to live their lives.

*** 

Casting the enchantment upon his car to allow for him to carry _everyone_ home was a breeze for Abelard. A simple 'Bigger-On-the-Inside-Than-On-the-Outside' spell. What came much harder was the awkward silence, disturbed only by Odysseus's snoring, that filled the car as the European Wendigo drove.

Fane was curled up against one of the backdoors. He looked like an angry, pouty beetle in his over-sized hoodie.

Gahiji was busy skimming and deleting various messages on his tablet.

Blancher and Bruner were wondering about their wives back home.

Nephubos stretched their eyes around the car. They wriggled a bit. They examined their tentacles.

They couldn't wait to get home and read some of the books they had gotten. They released an unhappy trill at a shove from Odysseus. “Stop fucking wriggling!”

“I _will_ pull this car over!” Abelard barked out and stowed the growing hostility before it could even begin to fester.

 


	47. The Great Elder Dragon

“Mazel Tov!!”

A woe-some set of claws and scales crash down upon a glass pitcher covered in cloth. Immediately, an awaiting crowd of dragons, those with wings and without, those of mountain and those of sea, small to large and back again, rose up and applauded.

The blessed couple in question, a spine-covered sword-tail and his veiled hydra bride,, drank of the warmth and well-tidings of the room before he removed her veils with his teeth. He kissed each of his bride's three heads in turn.

Promptly afterwards did the secondary bout of receptions begin. The bride's friends and bridesmaids were huddled around her, already gossiping and commenting on the handsomeness and potential virility of her new husband.

After a quick sampling of the bay leaf-roasted lamb and the rich challah bread, larger claws hit the floor and carried towards the exit.

“Rabbi, come on!” The mother of the groom pouted, “Stay! Enjoy the party with us!”

> “AH, IF BUT I COULD,”

A heavy rumble, coming as if from storm clouds,

> “BUT A RABBI'S WORK, IT IS NEVER DONE. SO, WITH A HEART FULL OF BLESSINGS,”

The newlyweds lifted their heads to let a giant maw of scales and teeth press kisses to them,

> “I LEAVE YOU TO CELEBRATE A NEW LIFE TOGETHER. LI-VERI'UT!”

The other guests braced themselves when seven mighty wings of a thousand different feathers and scales spread out wide. One slow beat brought snow. One beat brought fire. And then he lifted into the air.

***

A Bris for a young dragon wasn't too far off from how it was for a human.

Except, rather than performing the ceremony on an ignorant infant, dragons were taught the ways of their Abrahamic faith through childhood and then, on the cusp of adolescence but before adulthood and the Bar Mitzvahs it would bring, they would meet with their family's rabbi.

A young dragon of the moon, scales shimmering like ocean pearls in the temple's candlelight, gulped before addressing the ancient dragon in front of him. “R-Rabbi, I-I know this is important... And my folks are waiting outside and all. But...” He trailed off in a whine; his tail curing between his rear legs.

A low rumble of a sigh. Then,

> “MY SON, A LITTLE BIT OF UNEASE; IT'S NORMAL OF ANY YOUNG DRAGON. YOUR FATHER, HIS FATHER, HIS _FATHER'S_ FATHER!”

The young dragon craned his head up to watch the rabbi stand and take a few steps.

> “I'VE PERFORMED THIS, THIS MOST HALLOWED OF OUR TRADITIONS, COUNTLESS TIMES. AND I KNOW,”

An eye the size of the great Sphinx's face, that shifted between forests' greens and desert ambers, blinked and watched the youth.

> “IT'S NOT THE BRIS ITSELF THAT UNEASES YOU. YOU'RE GROWING UP.”

The young dragon lowered his head just for a giant claw to lift his chin.

> “THIS IS A GOOD THING, YOUNG ONE. AH, SOON YOU'LL BE READING FROM YOUR TORAH AND, BEFORE YOU KNOW IT,” The rabbi chuckled, “YOU'LL BE ASKING EISKA OUT ON THAT DATE!”

“R-Rabbi!” Pearl scales burned red, the young dragon covering his face with his paw.

The ancient dragon only chuckled.

> “COME ON. TIME FOR YOUR NEXT STAGE IN LIFE.”

***

Just as the Rabbi said, the Bris itself was a gentle, nonthreatening affair.

After the great guardian had welcomed family and friends of the young dragon with a call of Barach Ha-Ba, he recited a long-cherished blessing upon the circumcision that was to be held.

The young dragon laid on his back upon a great glass table with lush white cushions that smelled of herbs meant to ease the senses but not to disorient. He tucked his wings behind himself and spread his hind legs.

Rabbi retrieved an urn-like canister. Opening it with those claws, far more dexterous than they had any right to be, it smelt of eucalyptus's bite and warming hyssop.

He slathered on a generous amount before poking and pressing upon the young dragon's abdomen.

All ritual, all clinical. The pressure eased an opalescent sheathe out of the young dragon's abdominal slit.

The large guardian gently recited the ancient words of blessing and picked up the necessary knife: silver, pure, very, very sharp.

He sliced near the tip of the sheathe, minding the important flesh within.

> “AND A BIT MORE...”

He rubbed some of the salve over the cut: the bleeding slowing to a stop.

“L'chaim!” The young dragon's father stepped up to help his son onto shaky legs, “My son has entered the covenant!”

Those in the pews and audience arose in applause: heralding out blessings and congratulations in a myriad of growls and hisses.

***

Seven mighty wings beat against the air, helping the large form of El Doradus's guardian glide over the ebbs and breezes of wind.

One wing's flap brought snow that trailed through the air.

One wing brought lightning that cracked and tore.

Ever-burning fire wound about the next.

Lights of a hundred hues trickled around another.

One slipped through the air as if it were water.

Another shimmered with ancient sparks of magic as old as the earth.

And the final chimed like the thousands of coins in King Solomon's envied treasury.

He flew in a surveying circle around the gilded boundaries of El Doradus's flying reign before calling it a set and retiring to one avenue in particular.

The great elder dragon who watches over the flying burg of gold. He who flies upon seven wings and serves as a mentor and bastion of wisdom to all of Dama Fristad's draconic folk.

Rabbi Abraham shook the flying flying kinks out of his neck upon landing. The ridges of his neck, shoulders, and spine shifted with the motion. One by one, his wings folded up behind him; their motion making his deep blue and gold tallit shawl flutter.

Readjusting his yarmulke was second-nature at this point in his storied life. Between the majestic array of horns but still over his fingers. Rabbi Abraham walked down the length of Silveridge Avenue once the piece was set.

“Evening Rabbi!” A water-dragon chirped, fringed ears and tail spreading wide as she washed her clothes in her evening basin.

Rabbi Abraham waved his tail.

> “GUTN OVNT!”

“Lovely night for a stroll!” A black dragon said, a small storm cloud serving as a stroller for his small hatchling.

Rabbi Abraham agreed wholeheartedly. All the reason the Elder Dragon kept walking until...

> “REBEKAH!”

Officer Gasko, Rebekah to those close like family, looked away from her line of focus. “Papa, there you are.”

Rabbi Abraham looked upon his daughter: upon the stony visage of rosy scales and spikes.

> “REBEKAH, MY CHILD...”

He sat back on his haunches and brought his claws to her cheek.

> “PERHAPS JUST... A LITTLE BIT... OF A SMILE?”

Rebekah shook herself free of her father's claws. Whatever her mind was on was... more important. “It's hard to smile whenever I come here.”

She didn't hold any disdain for the district of her birth. No, but it did dredge up sadness. Rabbi Abraham knew why. He stepped forward to look upon the statue that stood in front of them.

It was of a dragon. A brimstone dragoness to be exact, rubies glimmering from where they had been inlaid onto the stone to replicate her horns and spikes.

How many years had it been since his beloved had gone to join their ancestors in that holy fire?

> “ERZSEBET...”

Rabbi Abraham whispered under his breath. Rebekah stood quiet for the minute moment of mourning.

Rabbi Abraham pulled himself away from his wife's stature.

> “WE SHOULD...”

The grief still clawed at him.

> “WE... SHOULD... I...”

“Papa. Papa!”

The ice of the past broke apart to reveal the present. Rebekah. Erzsebet's statue.

He wished he could have been in more places at once. To protect his citizens. Right now it was all split between him and the golem Solomon.

> “Y-YES. R-RIGHT....”

When he turned away, it was slow.

> “WE SHOULD GET TO THE QUARTZTAILS' BEFORE THEY START WITHOUT US.”

***

> “BARUCH ATAH, ADONI ELOHEINU _MELECH HAOLAM, BOREI P'RI HAGAFEN...”_

The dining room was dimly lit, only candles serving to warm the darkness. Rabbi Abraham poured and recited the Kiddush: fragrant wine flowing from the golden goblet to the silver tray beneath it.

The goblet was shared, passed from one dragon to the next before it journeyed back to the elder dragon's claws. Rabbi took a few sips and set the goblet aside so that everyone could go cleanse their claws.

Challah bread was broken soon after; dipped into salt, eaten, repeated. As the spicy chameen stew of slow-cooked meet was shared, Rabbi Abraham started some light conversation with the head of the Quartztail household.

“Thank you, it smells great.” Rebekah tore into a large piece of meat with her claws and teeth.

Mrs. Quartztail made sure that everyone was eating and drinking before... before taking a good, intimate look at the Rabbi's only daughter.

 

And now, _1685 Blightblossom Lane_ would like to present: A Brief Aside.

Whether young or old, uptown or down, we have all had experiences with the embrace of bad ideas. Ideally, truly horrendous possibilities are tossed out bu rational minds. However, there are a few that just so happen to squirm their ways through the filter of 'don't do this; read the air, for the love of God, I honestly don't know how anyone could think that this is a proper route to take; what is _wrong_ with you, you mad lad?!'

… Mrs. Quartztail's next actions _clearly_ bulldozed through said filter.

 

“Rebekah, bubelah,” The old dragoness set her wine aside, “When are you going to get married? Younger laying muscles produce healthier eggs, you know.”

Rebekah choked on her mouthful. Oy gevalt, were they _really_ doing this? “Pardon me?” She coughed.

And Mrs. Quartztail, well, she decided to carry on. “I only ask because my son, you know, is a very talented apothecary in Miasmus _and_ he's of marrying age.”

“Oy, mama!” The son in-question growled from his side of the table, “Why you gotta start this right now? We're just tryin' to have a nice dinner with Rabbi. Also,” He gestured to the slim, delicate wyvern sitting next to him, “My fiance's _right here_!!”

Before the wyvern could speak, Mrs. Quartztail insisted, “I'm certain that your little _phase_ will be over while Rebekah's still young.”

“I'm sitting _right here_ , you know...” Rebekah hissed, steam leaving her nostrils.

Mrs. Quartztail's son could only roll his eyes. “Wait. Is _this_ why you invited Rev Abraham over?! Are you kiddin' me, ma?!”

“Rabbi,” Mrs. Quartztail kept calm and carried on, “Surely _you_ can urge these fine, young creatures into a more... proper position.”

Well, that wasn't a question.

Mr. Quartztail silently poured himself three goblets of wine and started drinking his way through them.

Rabbi Abraham looked around the table.

> “LORD,”

He whispered to the heavens,

> “YOU BLESSED US WITH CHILDREN BUT NOT THE INTUITION TO KNOW THEIR HEARTS.”

He shifted his focus to the Quartztails' son and his fiance.

> “DO YOU BOTH LOVE EACH OTHER?”

Both dragons took each other by the claw. Rabbi Abraham hummed.

> “ARE YOU BOTH PROUD CHILDREN OF OUR PROPHET ABRAHAM?”

“Of course, Rev Abraham.” The wyvern managed to whisper out.

> “WELL!”

Rabbi Abraham clapped his claws together,

> “I SEE NO PROBLEM HERE AND WISH YOU BOTH BLESSINGS UPON YOUR ENGAGEMENT.”

“B-but Rabbi, _honestly_!” Mrs. Quartztail started. But Mr. Quartztail was officially over it.

“Enough.” He said, pouring out more wine.

And that ended that.

***

Rabbi Abraham strolled down the quieter roads of El Doradus with his daughter. Oi, what a terrible, _miserable_ seider...

Rebekah said nothing that the steam from her nostrils couldn't. “God, what a _night_." She just wanted to have this visit finish up without any other awkwardnesses. Maybe if she got home soon enough she could have a bath poured for –

Rabbi Abraham stopped: one foot off of the ground.

“Papa?” Rebekah turned around, lifting an eyebrow.

Rabbi Abraham was quiet. His foot finally landed.

> “REBEKAH... WHEN _ARE_ YOU GOING TO START CONSIDERING MARRIAGE?”

“No!” Rebekah's face twisted into itself. Her scales rippled and her wings flared out wide with her hissing words. “No!! You do _not_ get to start this _again!!_ ”

> “REBEKAH, PLEASE...”

Rabbi Abraham tried again,

> “I'M ONLY THINKING OF YOUR FUTURE.”

“If you were _really_ thinking about me,” Rebekah stalked towards her father, flames flickering between her teeth, “You would learn to _leave_ me _be!_ ”

Rabbi jumped in front of his offspring, bearing his fangs and roaring,

> “HOW MANY CENTURIES DO YOU THINK I HAVE LEFT?!?!”

Even with thunder boiling in the skies surrounding El Doradus, neither dragon backed down.

One of Rebekah's claws shifted on the ground.

Rabbi Abraham exhaled. His scales laid back down and his lips rested over his teeth.

> "I AM NOT LIKE DAMA FRISTAD'S OTHER GUARDIANS. I AM NOT UNYIELDING AS AKELDAMA. I AM NOT A PERMANENCE AS OLEANDA. HOTARU HAS HER YOUTH AND _THOUSANDS_ YEARS YET. TRILLIUM THE FAIR IS SUSTAINED BY HIS SPITE. AND SIKLON..."

Rabbi Abraham shook his head.

> “I CAN'T HAVE YOU ALONE... ONCE I AM GONE.”

Rebekah looked away. But Rabbi Abraham wasn't done. “WE ARE NOT MEANT TO BE BY OURSELVES FOREVER.”

“Then follow your _own_ advice!” Rebekah slapped her father's claws away. Two flaps of her own wings and she was gone.

***

A large hand crafted from sapphire poured some oil over the digits of a large hand made of emerald. Steam carried the perfume of roses up into the air as the large hands gently rubbed down the ridges of Rebekah's back.

“He started it again.” Rebekah glared down at an unfortunate bathroom tile.

“It's from a good place, trust me.” A new voice spoke as more oil was poured directly down her back. “He's just... old-school, you know? And he wants you to be safe.”

Rebekah didn't care for a reason. She wanted to be angry. She was _justified_ in it, damn it!

"After all," Chuckled the second voice, "You  _are_ in a pretty dangerous field."

She snorted out a brief burst of fire. “I'm a grown dragon. Where does he get off telling me that I have to get married?! He's been by himself for more than a century now – Ooh, wait...” Her hisses and biting words melted into a happy purr as those precious hands managed to catch some particularly aching scales.

“Is that a happy dragon I hear?” Eyes of pearl crinkled a bit, the other voice chuckling as they scrubbed and rubbed harder.

“Oh _yes..._ ” Rebekah's tail started wagging and thumping against the floor. How was he so good at knowing where to turn her into putty?

He removed his hands and watched as Rebekah's rosy scales sparkled in the bathroom candlelight. “How about something to eat?” He asked, “I think... There's still some cake left from last night.”

“You're trying to make me _fat..._ ” Rebekah growled. She felt the water shift behind her. Rebekah cracked open an eye and watched a massive form, humanoid, leave the bathroom for a bit.

“Cleaned your uniforms.” A large shadow passed a folded basket of clothing. Those same large hands pushed some packages and letters on the kitchen counter aside. “Emptied out the mailbox. I think your order of that claw cleaner you like came.”

Rebekah crouched underneath the soapy water in her tub. Several bubbles skimmed the water's surface and disappeared out of sight.

The bathroom door creaked open, the sound pulling Rebekah's attention up and towards it.

Though many connotations concerning dragons could be easily dispelled or explained, the one that remained true was the concept of a hoard. Dragons adored, on some primal scale, to have vast collections of one particular item to themselves. Whether they're of the sea, of flame, or of deep caves, each dragon, from the moment they earn their first keep, create their own hoards to treasure.

Rabbi Abraham's hoard was the astronomical collection of books and texts and tablets of draconic history of Hebrew faith that made up El Doradus's ancient library.

Rebekah's hoard was a bit more cliché. She had collected swathes of gems and crystals since she had gotten her first allowance.

And, well... One day she happened to take a good, long look at Solomon, the golem who kept watch over the means of entering the city of dragons. She, of course, being a young creature, would take a look at her hoard and decide that... She was a busy dragon, she couldn't be hassled with the upkeep of her living space.

It was also nice to have someone to come home to.

Without the pressure of marriage.

“Cake-time.”

Rebekah looked up into the mismatched pearl and citrine eyes that smiled down at her, large hands offering a slice of chocolate cake swirled with thick lines of raspberry jelly.

A smile rested warm upon the handsome face of the gem-crafted golem Hiram as he cut into the cake with a fork and offered it. “Come on: open up.”

So her hoard could walk.

And talk.

It wasn't a big deal.

He wasn't ever leaving this apartment, so it wasn't like her father would ever chastise her about it.

 


	48. Climb Every Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was an on-again-off-again tradition for Zach, Rory, and Eirwen to spend the day together every few months. Bonding, as friends are oft to do.

* * *

 

 

Rory hopped off of the Gossamer Train, one of the lines that cut a straight route to where you wanted to go.

On any other day he would take the Skeletal Tram, like he did for deliveries, but today was special.

 

His face lit up against the chilled air of Dama Fristad's fifth morning hour. “Zach!” He waved before adjusting the straps on his day-bag and jogging over. Zach gave a short wave back, both young men walking down the street until they reached a certain door.

“I got it!” A certain ghostly voice said from inside, “Sit back down!”

The door opened right up, Mrs. Leadhooves ushering the both of them in. “If it ain't little Rory Fontaine and Zachary Bruys! Get on in here!”

“Good morning Mrs. Leadhooves.” Both Zach and Rory greeted, only the latter smiling. As Zach walked in, Rory followed and took something from his bag. “For you!”

Mrs. Leadhooves blinked at a gray bottle that hosted a thin, blue mist. “Hot dog!” He picked up the bottle and whistled, “Is that Allure de l'au-dela?!”

Rory nodded. “I entered a contest from one of the magazines I carry at the store. They sent it to me but I figured you would get more use of it.”

“And how!” Mrs. Leadhooves sat the two down in the main room. “Just an ounce of this stuff goes for a pair of Cs!” He gave Rory a quick peck on the top of the head and floated down the hall to let his son know his friends were waiting.

Zach laid back against the couch, eyes not watching anything in particular.

Rory wrapped his arms around his day bag and bounced his feet on the floor.

***

You can do this.

“Eirwen? Come on, your friends are here!”

You can do this.

“... Did you still want to go out today?”

No, no! I do! Don't let them leave, I just...

Deep breath.

Deep.

Breath.

Okay. Okay.

O. K. A. Y.

Now.

Let's try this.

Just make it

Through.

* * *

 

“Alright!” Rory brought out his phone and pulled up a map of Dama Fristad. “Same as usual, then?”

The three of them had barely managed to catch a crowded Air Tram to ShimmerGale.

“Yeah, I – Hey.” Eirwen was trying to say something but he got shoved into his friends by a succubus spreading her wings to model for an impromptu social media shoot.

“Maybe we should have waited for another tram.” Zach offered. Not even he could make out any extra room for them.

“Times like this I wish that I had the bus...” Eirwen sighed at another shove, this time by a slime. He would never use school property for something casual like this, though.

The tram sways as several dragon-shaped zephyrs swirl by.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Announced the speakers on the tram, “Now approaching Eclipse Falls, ShimmerGale.”

***

Spectra Coffee's main branch was nestled beside the Eclipse Falls of ShimmerGale. The fresh source of moon-blessed waters were sought after for its crisp taste, invigorating properties, and 'The Aesthetic' – Trademark of Spectra Coffee Co.

Though it was scarcely light break, the faint ring of a Moonbow could still be seen reaching down from the heavens into the falls.

The three humans walked into the coffeehouse, with its rustic, bright-colored flair.

“Oh, we came just in time.” Rory observed the brief line of only two will o' wisps, a mantida, and three wraiths.

The cashier of the hour stood with a halo of gold floating over her head and cute white wings fluttering at her back. She handed off an order, a smile crinkling her three eyes: the standard for Angelbloods. “Next please!”

“How have things been at the school?” Rory asked Eirwen, the latter chuckling,

“Well, we're in the middle of our second culinary section of the year. The kids really like getting their hands on the fruits and vegetables that we've been growing.”

The line moved forward.

Zach counted the length of the line in comparison to where they were. “How have Abelard's daughters been?”

“They've been fine!!” Eirwen jumped. “Look! We're almost next in line!”

Rory couldn't help but think that Eirwen didn't need anymore caffeine if he was already so jumpy.

The cashier handed off some muffins and tea. “Next pl--”

“Move.”

A wash of silky, shiny hair held every facet of the rainbow. A silk apron dotted with broken shards of rainbows held snug around his narrow waist. Long, pointy ears broke through the sheet of his hair and eyes that mocked the multicolored sheen of his hair narrowed at the three humans in front of them.

The poor angelblood sputtered, “Mr. Reign Beau, it's kind of early for my one break a day!”

“I didn't say you get a break,” The elf with the colorful hair nudged his employee aside with his hip, “I told you to move.”

The angelblood did a she was told, Reign Beau scoffed, “Feather-brain.” He turned his glare to his latest batch of customers. “I figured something stunk to high heavens around here. Of course it would be three humans stepping where they're unwanted.”

The owner of Spectra Coffee's tongue was far more acrid and bitter than any of his coffees ever could be. But he did know his art, which is what made his the sole coffee empire in Dama Fristad.

Oh, other cafes came and went, but they either made sure to dig their heels into other talents or were demolished by his roasted bean and simple-but-alluring treat dynasty.

Rory set his money on the counter first before asking, “We'll need a to-go box of cafe au lait. But I'll take a Rose Whip Mocaccino and some Cinnamon Shortbread.”

“Hmph.” Reign Beau gestured for the angelblood to get the shortbread in question. He grabbed a paper cup and teapot that was green like life with red petals making the weight of it.

“Still yearning for love.” Reign Beau sneered, pouring out rich coffee that was heavy and red with rose blooms. “When you know, for a fact, you aren't worthy of it.”

Rory didn't want to flinch. But he did: his countenance falling with his shoulders. “What would you even have to offer the poor bastard who would be tricked into seeing you as anything more than a waste of time and space?”

Reign Beau dolloped a great spoonful of pink, sweet cream on top of the coffee. “Stick to that filthy hovel of a bookstore.” He shoved the cup and the wrapped up shortbread into Rory's hands. “Sugar's on the right shelf.”

Rory took his order. “Th-thank you.” He put some money in the tipping platter and went to the side to wait.

Eirwen set his money down next and offered a smile. “Beautiful morning, right?”

“Spare me your miserable attempts and glistening up the shit.” Reign Beau grabbed a new paper cup. “What do you want?”

“I!” Eirwen attempted to think of a fight but, really, what was the point? “Bootstrap Long Black, please.”

“But of course~!” Reign Beau tossed his head back and laughed behind one of his hands. He took a vine that hung from the ceiling and squeezed. It spat out thick drops of molasses and he poured the contents of a black petal coffeepot into it: espresso mixing with the thick, unrefined sweetness.

They had to wait for the molasses to melt.

“How long are you going to be able to find things to hide behind?” Reign Beau folded his arms.

“I,” Eirwen insisted, “Don't hide behind anything.”

Reign Beau lifted a fine eyebrow. “Oh, you get even more pathetic when you try to hide your bullshit. Your parents, your job – look now!” He pointed at the three humans, “You're practically turning the four-eyed one into a human shield!”

Eirwen looked at how he had made sure that Rory was perfectly between Zach and himself. “It's not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Reign Beau slid Eirwen's order over. “Not that I blame you: trying to get away from this behemoth.”

Zach said nothing as he stepped to the counter. He didn't set any money out. He didn't get the chance with Reign Beau grabbing a cup and starting. “All those muscles, a face that isn't too hard on the eyes... And yet sleeping with you was still like fucking a corpse.” He set the cup on a slow twirl. “What, with that permanent resting bitch-face of yours...”

Zach followed the cup with his eyes. It continued its dance over the counter: slow spin and crawling gait.

Zach stopped the cup and slid it back to the elf's line of sight.

Reign Beau smirked. “What should I make for you. Oh, I know. How about a cup of hot milk? That should be bland enough for you.”

Zach didn't say anything. He did reach into his pocket for something.

No, not that.

Nor that.

There we go.

“What am I thinking?” Reign Beau cackled, “Milk has far too much flavor for you. Lukewarm water would be far your --”

A flash of rainbow plastic shut the elf right up.

His smirk shattered at the sight of it. “You miserable bastard.” Reign Beau seethed.

Eirwen whistled. “You really do drink a lot of coffee, huh?”

“And smoothies.” Zach supplemented before beginning, “Let's do: vanilla frappucino base, caramel crisps, chocolate sauce, strawberry-hazelnut infusion, venti caramel layer, pineapple whip --”

“GREAT!” Reign Beau slammed the already formidable cup to the counter, “Just give me your Rainbow Reward card and --”

“I'm not done yet.” Said Zach, bringing out a notebook from his pocket.

Reign Beau grit his teeth but went along with this exercise in tedium, “Matcha-infusion, white chocolate, powdered ice, fairy sugar, cayenne-drizzled cinnamon shot, birthday cake batter, Darjeeling reduction --”

“Are you quite finished?!” Reign Beau seethed. Zach turned the page in his notebook.

“Let an Irishman seduce the Mami Wata in the bedchamber of Nessie and let it steep.”

Reign Beau splashed in whiskey, Palm wine and then several sprigs of mint. He slammed the monumental cup down onto the counter. A lid was smacked onto the top and a straw stabbed into that.

“Rainbow Rewards card. Please!!”

Zach gladly handed it over and took both his drink and the coffee box.

“Miserable bastard.” Reign Beau tossed the cardstock into the nearest sink.

Zach stopped just short of taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

* * *

 

Frigid gales that would pierce the skin of a grown man after only several seconds whipped down the sides of a great mountain of slick stone and unforgiving ice.

A gloved hand, the fabric thick and coarse, reached up from the edge and grabbed hold of a small ledge. Despite being wrapped up tight in two parkas, and thick sweats underneath those, Zach's listless eyes were visible through the layers.

A few notches below him was Eirwen, the teacher not doing too shabby in his ascent.

But then, a few rungs down, Rory was putting most of his energy into keeping himself on the mountain.

He looked up through his frosted lenses, “How far are we trying for today?!”

Eirwen panted and looked over the ledge. “Maybe the next ridge?!”

Zach watched the wind curling over the ledges nearby. With the way the icy winds condensed like a dragon's breath it wouldn't do any good to try and force their luck. He grabbed a climbing axe from his hip and turned it around. Zach just had to hammer and anchor into the cliff and then leading down the belay would be a piece of cake.

Rory turned and looked at the view from their altitude. 15,000 ft may bring scoffs from some, but for a leisurely climb the view was more than worth it.

“Beautiful.” Rory whispered at the sublime sight of the other icy peaks jutting up from the earth towards an entombed sky. A small family of spotted deer grazed on the few sprouts they found on a lower ridge.

Several daggers of ink flapped against the blinding white of the underground roof.

It came like a shadow: slithering underfoot and out of mind until it got to where it needed to be. The Nightmare sniffed at the portion of the belay line that held Rory's weight.

It creaked open its jaws and

SNAP!

Rory was graced with the sense of weightlessness that came with foundation leaving one's self.

Then came the fall.

“Eirwen?!” He sputtered out, following immediately with, “ZACH?!”

“Rory!!” Eirwen had shouted the instant that he felt Rory's weight shift. Instinct had him reaching out for the climbing axe when Zach tossed it over.

“Mount the belay.” Zach had said before grabbing a length of rope and jumping down.

***

He was going to die.

He was...

Huh.

It was weird. Feeling so weightless but still pressed down by one's impending demise.

He remembered feeling something similar a long time ago.

Dad had been drinking.

Dad always drank.

And Rory had been too loud coming inside after school.

Hands.

Around.

His.

Throat.

Body holding in the air.

Zach had...

***

Wait.

Zach hadn't been there then.

Rory snapped back into the now with a sharp inhale. His ears were burning with the sound of rushing wind. And Zach was falling towards him with increasing speed until...

Zach grabbed Rory by the waist and threw the rope, tipped off with a hunting dagger, up towards Eirwen.

Eirwen snapped it still between two fingers and stabbed it into the cliff; following it with three whacks of the axe.

Far below, Zach didn't bother waiting for the rope to stop the descent. He swung forward until he could grab the rock face. He dug his fingers in, the two men falling but the descent slowing.

Slowing.

Rory's heart jumped and trembled in his ribs like a mortified rabbit. But, he noticed, they had stopped.

“Eirwen.” Zach kept his voice even as he removed his hand. “Pull us up.”

Eirwen climbed up to the top of the ledge and began pulling: no hindrance to him except for time.

“Z-Zach.” Rory whispered, nerves too shaky to allow for more.

Zach was quiet all the way up.

The ice here was getting kicked up by the lashing winds.

He also.

Had a feeling.

About what had caused this downfall.

But, for now, Rory needed to be on solid ground.

Rory exhaled in relief when Zach set him down onto the ground. “Oh, dear!” He panted, “I wonder... what caused that? We inspected the equipment before we started.”

Zach had an idea of what. But he didn't want to make Rory worry.

“We should let the mountain rangers know what happened.” Eirwen offered, “Just so they can be wea--”

“Zach!”

Rory stumbled over to where Zach stood. “Your hand!”

“Hm?” Zach lifted the hand that he had used to slow their fall. Where the skin wasn't bright red, the cuts and serrations provided their own deep sanguine hue. “Oh.”

Rory's eyes grew sad. Reaching into his pockets, several of them as the items he needed kept shifting, he brought out two vials and a roll of bandages.

“I know that you can't feel the pain.”

Rory poured one vial over the inflamed cuts and bruising.

“But that doesn't mean you have to bring it onto yourself for other people.”

Rory wiped away the excess of the first sticky, sap-like fluid and drizzled a pale, pink ooze onto the digits.

“Eirwen... Faaria... Luciana... We'd all be really worried if anything happened to you.”

Cloth bandages whispered with every wrap. Not to tight. Allow motion.

“So, just,” Rory pressed a small 'chu' to the bandaged fingers, “Keep yourself in mind a bit, okay?”

Zach looked down at him, expression as stone.

***

The mountain ranger yeti on duty, in between rocking the snuffling baby yet in her arms, jotted down everything that the trio told her. “And you're sure you – hold still! – you're sure you did your gear-check before climbing up?”

“Yes.” Zach answered for the third time, pouring a coffee from the box for Rory and Eirwen before pouring a cup for himself.

Though the person who made it was several kinds of bitter, the coffee was the warming sweetness that was needed after a hectic climb.

The yeti took a few more notes for her report. “Alright, I'll get this to records. The three of you should probably call it a day, though. Get back to the world of warmth outside.”

“Well...” Rory looked to the brighter lining, “We _do_ have to pick up a few things from Aquacia proper. Mostly the –

* * *

 

– last of the ingredients for tonight.” Rory said as they walked down the marble sidewalks of Aquacia. He turned, walking backwards to face Eirwen and Zach. “Are you two holding up alright? I can carry some of the groceries. Maybe a day-bag or two?”

Zach shook his head, his arms and back easily carrying the bulk of their stuff. Eirwen readjusted the grocery bags in his hands. “It's not that far, really.”

They kept walking, several boats skimming through the canal. A mermaid officer was inspecting the vending license of a harpy's pita bread cart.

Rory walked until he reached an gap between one block and the other. “I... could have sworn there was a bridge here.”

“Siklon's probably crafting new ones today.” Eirwen sighed. “Probably going to have to find another...” Zach kept walking. “Way?”

“Zach, wait a minute!” Rory called after him but Zach kept on. He lifted his foot and set it down over the canal's clear waters.

Siklon's hand made waves burst forth and crashed together as it rose from the depths. Zach continued over the slick scales. “He's not going to stay here forever.”

Eirwen and Rory shared a nod before jogging after their friend. But, for Siklon, they were taking far too long.

Rory yelped and fell right onto his butt – a pretty nice butt, but, you know – when Siklon moved his hand with the three on it.

Zach held his stance, following the sound of a great behemoth rising from the depths. Siklon looked down at the humans in his hand. Well, really, he was looking at _one_ of them.

 

> “ _ **WHERE ARE YOU GOING, ZACH?”**_

Zach lowered his head: a slight bow. “Miasmus. We have a few things to pick up.”

Siklon chuckled, miles of sharp teeth revealed in a predator's grin.

 

> “ _ **YOU SHOULD WATCH YOUR SURROUNDINGS... NEVER KNOW WHAT IS LURKING IN THE CORNERS OF THIS WORLD.”**_

“I guess.”

Siklon sighed. The boy's indifferent nature was too much of a regret for him. Siklon set the guys down at the train station and lowered his mighty head to get a really good look at Zach.

He had grown up so much these past years...

 

> “ _ **GET OUT OF HERE.”**_

Siklon sank back into Aquacia's waters.

“He's so imposing...”

Zach turned to see Rory holding a hand to his chest. Eirwen offered, “But you've been able to just up and talk to him ever since we were kids, huh Zach?”

“I guess.” Zach said, “Come on, Miasmus is our last stop before we have to head back to the condo.”

* * *

 

The trio didn't have far to walk from Ludovico Station when they got to Miasmus. Good thing, too: talking through gas masks wasn't fun for anyone.

Zach held the door of a small shop open for Rory and Eirwen to step in. A tiny copper bell rang out once all three of them were over the threshold.

“You boys let me know if you need anything.” Said the frog beast-folk at the counter. She didn't lift her eyes from her magazine, though: merely used her sticky tongue to turn the page.

“Thank you.” Rory called back. He turned back to the largest wall and got back to the search. “Do either of you see it?”

Eirwen shook his head. He opened a few drawers for good measure, even. “No, not yet. Gee, I hope they aren't out.”

Zach walked down the aisles and –

Hm. What was the most-walked path in this store?

Now.

Deviate from it.

Refine.

Engage.

Zach opened a drawer in the next aisle. “Found it.”

“Really?” Rory rushed over just as Zach pulled out a twisted bottle. “Oh, good! I was almost worried that they were out.”

“I'll go pay for it.” Eirwen walked over to the counter. He called back, “Are we getting anything else?”

“I should have everything else we need at home.” Zach brought out his phone. “What gym should we go to? My guest passes are still good until the end of the month for Atlas's.”

Rory hummed, “It's nice. Something about that place always makes me feel so _small_.”

Neither Zach or Eirwen wanted to be the one to say 'because you _are_ small'.

They eventually decided on Zach's regular gym. Close enough to his condo, allowed for both human and nonhuman clients, and they could hopefully take their time with slower sets to wind down from their earlier climb.

Not to mention it would help them burn off the extra caffeine.

* * *

 

Rory tilted his head back with a water bottle pressed against his lips. The cool water washed a sense of coolness over his heated body.

“M-maybe we overdid it?” He giggled to himself, thinking about how Eirwen and Zach had pulled him through a set of cardio and calisthenics to revive their blood-flow after their rough morning climb.

Rory already knew he was going to be sore tomorrow and that was just after the climb and the workout. He didn't even bother going into the sparring ring; opting to watch.

He really didn't want his organs shifting spots again.

Zach picked up a bo staff from the display of sparring supplies next to the ring. “First to the floor loses?”

Eirwen nodded, but. It took him a moment to force himself to take a staff and enter the ring.

“Y-yeah. That,” He gulped, “That sounds fine.”

“Don't be too rough, you two!” Rory called out, “We still have to walk to Zach's!”

Both of the men in the ring nodded and got into position.

Eirwen held his staff in the appropriate angle. It was just a friendly sparring match.

Zach wasn't being hostile.

This was all in good measure.

He couldn't let his eyes stay on Zach's intimidating form. His heart wouldn't make it.

“Go.”

That was all the warning Zach gave before charging forth and swinging.

Eirwen's stomach tensed. He blocked the first impact, wood clashing with wood in a echo of a smack. Zach faked back and spun around, swinging the staff against Eirwen's back. Eirwen winced and moved out of the hit. He swung his staff and, when Zach dodged the swing, he kicked the other in the chest. Zach didn't react.

Had he even felt it?

Zach twisted the impact away with his staff and swung down. Eirwen abandoned the staff and jumped up and over Zach: using his shoulders as a hurdle. He planted his foot into Zach's back. When Zach stumbled for a beat, Eirwen grabbed his staff and bore down with his own flurry of strikes.

Left!

Right!

Left!

Right!

Left!

Right!

Zach ducked away out of the first few but then went on the defensive. The room was filled with the crack of wood on wood. Several splinters broke free from the staffs and embedded into the mat.

Zach jabbed his staff into the mat and vaulted himself forward. Eirwen weaved away and got a whack in the shoulder for his efforts.

For his part, Rory could have watched the two go at it for hours. He sometimes had to remind himself that he could never match up to the two of them when it came to physical capability. Even Eirwen, who spent most of his time cleaning runny noses and teaching golden rules, was keeping Zach at just enough bay to be considered a challenge.

Zach swung down, cracking Eirwen's staff in half. Eirwen rolled backwards and snatched up both pieces.

Eirwen fended a second flurry of strikes and kicked a swing away. Zach rounded it about and tripped Eirwen onto his back.

Eirwen's heart slammed into his chest. His lungs pulled tight. Eyes watering –

 

_Rushing water in the oozing pitch of night._

“ _Oh. I get it!” A sickening giggle as lips pulled over gleaming teeth, “This is the part where you... whine like a giant brat for me to let you live! Right?”_

_He was so strong._

_He was his size and yet he was still so much stronger._

_How..._

_He felt his feet dangling in the air._

_His lungs pulled tight._

 

“Eirwen...”

 

_His eyes watered..._

“Eirwen!”

Rory took soft, gingered steps towards his friend. “Eirwen. I'm walking over.” He held up his hands, “Let me know if that's okay, Eirwen. Zach, move back. Please.”

Zach stepped back and tossed his staff away. Rory got close enough to kneel next to the trembling body that had locked up on the floor.

“Oh Eirwen...” Rory didn't dare to touch him. He just kept talking: gently. Slowly. “Can you hear me?”

Eirwen said nothing. His pupils were thin pinpricks in an expanse of white.

“Eirwen.” Rory tried again, “Eirwen, please. It's okay...” Rory clenched his fingers into a fist. “Zach's not going to hurt you.”

Zach stepped back further. Rory rested a hand on Eirwen's shoulder. “Eir--”

“You don't know that.”

Rory hated how this crippling fear, this choking panic turned a kind, understanding, handsome man into... _This._

Even worse, he didn't know why most of this _fear_ surged up whenever Zach was around.

Rory, after making sure that Eirwen wasn't flinching at his touch, rested the trembling man's head upon his lap. He brushed several locks away from Eirwen's sweaty forehead.

 

“ _Thusa a chaidh gu dorchadas_

_Thig air Ais thugam..._

_Na biodh eagal ort agus lean mo ghuth.”_

 

Rory was a terrible singer. His voice was scratchy; it sometimes cracked like he was going through puberty.

But, if there was even the slightest chance of a song helping to better someone's day then, by God, he would start belting out like a lounge-singing goat.

 

“ _Leig leis na h-eagal a tha a ’slaodadh_

_Do chuid eile..._

_Teich sàmhach gu bràth.”_

 

Rory looked down at Eirwen, seeing that his eyes were closed and his trembling had shifted to occasional tremors. “Hello there.” Rory's smile was soft, warm, but sad all the same. “I'm Rory Fontaine. And _you_ are Eirwen Leadhooves.”

“Who?”

Rory shook his head with a chuckle. “Come now... Your name is Eirwen Leadhooves. You have a lovely mother, a hard-working father, and you have one of the most important, fulfilling jobs that anyone can have in Dama Fristad.”

Eirwen's eyes slowly opened. “Fae Rock.”

Rory nodded. “Fae Rock. Welcome back.”

Two smoothies, loaded up to the bursting point with fruit and yogurt, were offered to them. From a reasonable distance. Both Eirwen and Rory followed the strong arms holding the drinks.

Zach averted his eyes.

He didn't want Eirwen to have another episode.

Even though he had no idea what it was about him that freaked the teacher out so much.

 

Maybe Reign Beau was right.

 


	49. Smackdown

* * *

 

 

Periwinkle was lounging away on a blightblossom leaf when he heard footsteps approaching. And he knew all three of them well.

“Rory Fontaine and Eirwen Leadhooves!” The doorfairy flew up and smacked his tiny hand into Eirwen's for a high-five, fluttering over to wipe a smudge from Rory's glasses afterwards. “Is it time for another get-together already?”

“Mm-hm.” Zach said, opening the door to the condo and getting way more noise than he thought he would. Of course there was Mira playing one of his games on his laptop near the coffee table, but there was also...

Odysseus, pumping a weight in one hand while hassling pretty young things in their DMs with the other

Gahiji, looking up the best place to get his next mane-cut on his tablet

Silveste chuckling at something the sphinx had said before giving his own loquacious response

“Why are you all here?” Zach deadpanned to his tenants.

Mira scoffed. “Uh, we kind of _live here_ , puta.”

“Nice.” Odysseus gave the mimic's tongue a high five.

“How long until the match starts?” Zach asked, nudging Mira away from the coffee table.

“Hey, what the --”

“An hour and a half, I think?” Eirwen said on his way to the bathroom.

Zach helped Rory get the last of the groceries to the kitchen. “I'll try to get things in some kind of order.”

“It's okay, Zach, really.” Rory looked over the ingredients laid out on the counter and table, “I just want to make sure there'll be enough for everyone.”

Zach took in the situation and decided that fighting the circumstance wasn't worth it. “Call me over if you need anything.”

“Of course.” Rory giggled and turned back to start working. They were going to have a nice shepherd's pie with sauteed vegetables... Breaded shrimp skewers... Roasted tomatoes, P. E. Sparklers...

He hoped that everyone would like them...

“Oh.” He tilted here and peeked there. “Zach, is there an apron I can use?”

Zach lifted the couch up above his head with one hand. “Just use the cream-colored one on the oven.”

Rory had noticed said apron but it was tossed aside in that way that said 'I needed this to make breakfast this morning but haven't gotten around to making it less of a fire-hazard yet'.

Rory peeled several potatoes, looked to main room, and then brought out the two bags of spuds that were in the pantry.

“Alright.” Eirwen stole back into the scene. “What are we working on?”

Silveste took the moment to stand to his hooves. “Zachary, what _are_ the three of you bipedal creatures of Adamanian-descent contemplating the beginning actions of--”

“You really need to work on that.” Zach cut him off. Thankfully Gahiji's eyes flashed and he bounced over, the condo shaking until he stopped.

“Tonight's Slashbringette's big title bout! It's going to be a _real_ firecracker of a match; everyone in Dama Fristad's going to be watching!”

Eirwen sighed with a twist of his ponytail. “I hope Rhubarbara isn't letting the kids watch. It's too early in their development to be exposed to excessive violence...”

***

While Rhubarbara had indeed put a distinct limit on what and how much TV the children of Fae Rock watched, she couldn't very well manage Clawssie's viewing habits.

Especially since her father had picked her up from the school so they could watch her mother's match, live, from the private viewing-box that her father could afford several times over.

***

Eirwen looked around the main room. The couches had been rearranged to allow for a small audience worth of people. “Is this good enough?”

“It's going to have to be.” Zach tossed a large sitting pillow onto the floor. He looked to his tenants, “I told you guys I was going to have company today...”

Mira shrugged, “I don't remember hearing anything like that~”

“I put up a sign on the hallway wall.”

***

At the beginning of the week, Zach taped a small poster to the major wall of the hallway. Said poster read 'I'm having company this week. Please don't turn it into a crowded situation. Thanks. - Zach'.

Zach stepped back to get a good look at his work. Then he walked off. He had to fix a windowpane in Abelard's room.

The hallway was quiet. Empty. Serene –

“Whoo, gotta drop a deuce!” Odysseus snorted, storming down the hallway until he got to the bathroom. Before he sat down and got to the point of no return, he noticed the sad, empty cardboard tube hanging from the wall. “Damn it! Which one of you pussies used up the toilet paper for your shitty jerkoff session?! Tch...” He peeked out of the bathroom and whipped his head around. His shaggy hair slowed to a stop when he noticed the sign. “Bingo!”

Odysseus ripped the sign from the wall and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

***

“Seriously?” Zach looked up at the minotaur like he was berating a child.

The type of child who ate paste.

“Don't look at me! It's not my fault that one of you twinkle-pukes used up all the toilet paper. B'sides,” Odysseus got up to walk to the kitchen, “It ended up being at _least_ in my top ten shits of all time.”

“If I could feel, I'm sure I would hate you.” Zach quipped back. But Odysseus didn't pay anymore after that. He jogged over to the kitchen, the hunt on for some snacks. Of course, Rory was still in there cooking away.

“Oh! Hello, I'm not sure if we've met. I'm Rory Fonta--”

“Out of the way, faggot!” Odysseus shoved Rory aside and rummaged through the fridge for a bit. Rory quietly waited until the minotaur grabbed several bags of chip and some salsa out of the fridge and slammed it shut afterwards.

“Oh, could you please do me a favor,” He began again, “And hand me that paprika on the pantry's top shelf?”

Odysseus glanced back to the human. He snorted and walked back to the main room, leaving Rory to wonder if he could have asked that better.

But, oh!

Odysseus was coming back!

He grabbed the paprika...

And put it on top of the fridge.

“Oh, I...” Rory spoke up but he just ended up letting the words fade out into a whine.

“Rory, do you need any help in there?” Zach called out from his bedroom. But Rory shook his head, determined not to bother either of his friends.

“No, it's fine! Just have to expand the recipe a bit for more guests! Eirwen, can you run out and get me more skewers and foil?”

“On it!” Eirwen held up his phone, a silent 'call me if anything else pops up', and jogged out the door. “Oh, Herr Baumgarten! How are you doing?”

“Eirwen! I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Rory went on with his work: luckily the amount of onions weren't too much of a hassle. He was deveining the shrimp when he realized, “Oh, I still have more potatoes to cut.”

_'Excuse us!'_

Rory looked down to see a gelatinous, tentacled form tugging at his apron. ' _Could we please get a cup of water? We can't reach the, um...'_ Rory watched the tentacle-bleb reach into themselves to retrieve a sparkly notebook. _'This word is complicated. Reeee-freedger... ay-tor?'_

When Nephubos looked up again, they saw Rory looking down at him with the warm smile and sparkling eyes of someone who just sat through a compilation of cute cat videos.

“Oh..!” He handed over a cup of water and knelt down to Nephubos's level. Once there, stars still in his eyes, he asked, “Has anyone taken the time to tell you that you are simply the most adorable thing?”

Nephubos blinked all three of their eyes and tilted their head.

There was something off about the human in front of them. They couldn't quite catch it. Every time they thought they had the nexus of just what that _what_ was, it vanished like a gossamer morning haze.

* * *

 

By the time Abelard had let Eirwen go, Rory was back into the flow of things again. The wendigo stepped into the kitchen for a cup of water and happened upon Nephubos crawling all over a human he was unfamiliar with.

Rory felt someone else in the kitchen and turned around, Nephubos trilling from his back. “Ah, are you one of Zachary's friends?”

Rory bowed a little, looking a bit under-dressed with his apron, flour all over, and a tentacle-bleb on his back. “Yes, my name's Rory. Rory Fontaine.”

“Abelard von Baumgarten.” Abelard retrieved what he had been looking for. Abelard got his drink and leaned against the fridge, getting a long look at human in front of him. What was it about him, this Rory Fontaine, that filled him with the yearning to...

Help?

“Did you need any assistance there?” Abelard asked.

Rory shook his head, “No, no. I wouldn't want to be a bother. Thank you, tho--”

Abelard chuckled. “We are both of differing schools of thought if you consider this to be a bother.” Abelard reached into his coat and brought out his trusted tome.

Rory gasped, the sound rustling through his hair and following the spark in his eyes. “That's...” He stepped closer. He rigorously wiped his hands free of any semblance of debris before reaching out. “A Germanic Geomancing Grimoire!!”

Abelard needed a moment. That had... been right on the nose and upon just a glance!

“You are familiar with older texts?” He asked, making his nerves less prominent.

Rory nodded. “There are thousands of books that I'll never be able to read, let alone touch. I'm just a human, after all... But!” He clasped his hands together, “The knowledge that they're still intact... That their wisdom hasn't been wiped away from this world.” He tilted his head with a giggle and a smile. “It fills my heart to bursting.”

Abelard couldn't be mad or skeptical at that. He let the pages of the book flip through themselves until the right passage was visible.

Abelard's burning eyes ignited. Several knives and peelers whisked out of their drawers and boards. Rory watched, gasping when potatoes were being peeled, chopped, and sliced into three pots. “Wow. Herr Abelard, thank you so much!”

Something about that smile and that earnest honesty... It made Abelard feel young again.

* * *

 

 

Silas sent off the text before stepping inside the condo. There was some sort of commotion going on and he didn't really want to be shoved around by a boastful bull or mortified by a mimic, so he carried on with a laugh at the words on the screen.

It was a quiet laugh as he slithered through to the kitchen. The place seemed... a bit more congested than usu – AAA

_AAAAHHH!!_

He stood, stiffer than a fainted goat who had glared at medusa after downing a handful of Viagra. “Almost done...” Rory hummed at the sight of the browning shepherd's pies. He lifted himself up, gently bouncing the bleb who was still on his back.

He turned and saw a naga gawking at him like a nun seeing a hastily done confessional blowjob. “Hello there! Did you... Want a cup of water?”

'I want my fucking apron back, that's what I want!!' Silas frantically signed, following it with claws racking down the sides of his face. _Fffuck_ him, why did this shit always happen to him whenever he was in this condo?!

“Oh dear, I... I didn't know, I'm so sorry!” Silas turned and saw the human setting Nephubos down on the counter. He undid the apron and inspected it. “I _asked_ Zach if it was okay because I didn't want to just up and use it if it belonged to someone else.” Rory sighed, his dismay poking his bottom lip out just the tiniest bit as he noticed the smudges and spots. “I'm so sorry to ask this of you, but I have some things in the oven. I'll gladly go wash this for you if you watch them for me!”

'I...' Silas grimaced at the pleading shine in the human eyes. God, what was it about it that made it impossible, tooth-pullingly and tail-slicingly so, for him to say anything other than, 'Okay...'

Rory let out a baited breath. “Thank you so much! A good warm scrubbing will do the job.”

'Wait, you're going to wash it by _hand_?!' Silas signed but it was too late. His shoulders slumped.

May as well get comfortable.

He propped himself up against the counter and brought out his phone.

 

'Guess my laundry is going to be dealt with???'

* * *

 

Down to the last few seconds of the last remaining minutes, Rory was setting the food and drinks he had prepared out once Eirwen had come back with the items he had asked for.

Of course, Rory couldn't have managed to do everything so fast without a little extra help. “Thank you so much!” He opened the balcony doors and let out the several songbirds who had fluttered in to help with the final touches. They happily chirped and circled around him before taking their leave.

In the main room, Abelard spun his wristwatch around. “Isn't it about time for the show?”

Odysseus crushed a beer can against his head and punched Zach in the shoulder. “Change the channel, pussy.”

Zach's face didn't change but he did state, “The only thing stopping me from dropping you down the staircase without railing is the fact that you pay rent.”

He grabbed the remote and flipped over to the needed channel.

'Isn't the first twenty minutes going to be commercials and stats and junk?' Silas signed, sitting down with a plate of food because, damn it, he had been tricked into helping to cook, like _hell_ he wasn't going to help himself.

Even if 'helping' was more along the line of making sure things didn't burn since Rory seemed to know his way around a kitchen pretty well.

Gahiji jumped up and landed next to the couch. Everything lurched up into the air from the impact but, luckily, Zach and Eirwen were quick to catch the more fragile items. “Ooh, but the entourages always have such nice, sparkly outfits near the beginning!”

The television screen hummed with glowing banners showing the names of the two combatants that evening. “It is an _awesome_ night to watch some wrasslin', ain't it Phil?”

“Damn straight, Bobby! I can _not_ wait to see these two lovely ladies rip each other limb from limb in the ring!”

“Whoo, doggie!” Two creatures sat at a long table, microphones and tablets near them with banners and cans bearing several sponsorships never too far away. “Who do you think has a win in store tonight, Phil?” The one who spoke was a stocky, dark, hairy quadruped with two horns curving behind his ears and a smirking feline face. An Ozark Howler. “Sliggania has been posting all about her regimine for the past month and I reckon she has a real strong chance.”

“Bobby, you _know_ it is a damn fool's bet to disregard Slashbringette's offering!” The second creature was long and slick like an eel. He had no legs, his lower body melting into a serpentine extension while his upper body formed into his broad shoulders, thick arms, and his head which had no eyes, the smallest of nostrils, and was _all_ mouth. “There's a reason why she's defending her title tonight, _not_ challenging for it – Look at _that;_ the show's going down already!”

The left wing of the audience surged up into applause. The lumbering, lethargic, lollipop-licked form of a giant female slime was escorted down the nearest staircase. “Standing 20 ft tall and 865 pounds, half of it that beautiful, sickly-sweet mucus you and I both love to hate! Give it up for...” The slime jumped up and landed in the ring, sweet-smelling slime splashing the audience members on that side. _“SLIIIIIIIIGGANIA!”_

As impressive as her entrance was, the audience didn't _really_ start going wild until the doors on the right wing of the audience cracked open.

The lights dimmed, the remaining strobelights catching on the sparkling white bikini sets of the young men and women escorting the defending champion to the stage.

“Daddy!” Clawssie jumped up and down in her seat, “Daddy, daddy, daddy! It's Mama! Mama's here!”

“Yes honey.” Clawssie's human father calmly chuckled as his daughter ran happy, excited circles around his chair, “You're going to miss it if you don't slow down, Clawssie.”

That was enough to get the wolf-girl to jump back in her chair. She was still vibrating a mile a minute but at least she was in one spot.

Just in time. Two of the the humans in the giant werewolf's entourage gently removed her silver robes. The fabric hadn't even gotten the chance to flutter before the werewolf charged the stage and jumped into the ring. “Our residing champ, folks! 9 feet, 8 inches, 220 pounds: all muscle and _amazing_ hair! The one! The only!”

The werewolf tossed her head back and let forth a howl that quaked the whole building. “SLASHBRINGETTE!!”

The audience on the TV went wild and the audience in the condo cheered in their own ways as well. “What are the chances tonight?” Eirwen asked, Rory humming as he set plates and drinks in front of everyone.

“I really do think Slashbringette is going to go home with another win.”

“My motions of gratitude and appreciation resound around your house.” Silveste said once the human set food and drink out for him.

Both creatures in the ring got to their corners. Sliggania's promotion team and coach waved their arms and flapped their gums in a flurry of last-minute thoughts.

Slashbringette needed no such counseling. Her promotion team and coach knew better than to bother her when she was in the zone.

“Let's get ready...” Phil whooped,

“TO SMACKDOWN!!” Bobby slapped his tail against the ringside gong. Slashbringette jumped up and charged. Sliggania braced herself, slime sloughing off of her body and to the floor –

The condo shook with the slamming and opening of a door. Everyone whipped away from the TV to see Suraj rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sheepish, and Fane; the phantom glowering at anything with a pulse.

Gahiji bounced over and rested a paw on top of Fane's head. “You okay? I tried calling you earlier to see if we could hang out.”

Fane shook the sphinx's paw off of him. “Get off.”

Mira then looked him up and down. Up and down. “Who pissed in _your_ lemonade?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Fane moved around Gahiji. “I'm going to bed.”

Gahiji pouted, ears drooping. “But I thought you liked wrestling?”

Suraj waited until the basement door slammed. He rubbed his shoulder, sighing, “Is there any room on the couch?”

Odysseus snorted, “No.”

Zach tipped the couch, sending Odysseus rolling into Mira. “What the fuck?”

“Get! Off!” Mira whined, his tongue shoving away at Odysseus's bulk. Suraj gladly sat down and held up his claws for a beer; popping the tab and downing half when one landed.

“Is this the big Slashbringette match?” He leaned back.

“Yep!” Eirwen turned the volume up a bit. Just like that, focus had returned to where it belonged.

“... And the match is surging up!” Phil gnashed out, “Sliggania's got the ring nice and sticky: her signature opener!”

The wrestling ring was soaked in the sweet-smelling slime that built up the slime's body. Sliggania warbled and wriggled around the ring. “I hope that belt stretches out, dearling! It is going home with _me_!”

Slashbringette bared her teeth, a growl rumbling up through her chest. Sliggania reached out for her. Slashbringette faked left and bolted to the ropes. She pulled them tight, tight until they reached their threshold and snapped her forward.

Sliggania initially cackled, rolls jiggling at the futile sight ahead of her. She choked, horrified when Slashbringette impacted with her: sinking her claws into her sticky, globby hide. The werewolf hurled her into the ground and made the ring jump up several feet.

“Let's fucking _GO!!_ ” Odysseus jumped up and hurled his beer to a fizzy death upon the floor.

“Well, that was a waste of good beer.”

Abelard's mouth clicked shut immediately after. A glance over at Zach confirmed that, yes, they had both vocalized that sentiment.

“Ah, shut up.” Odysseus huffed, walking to the kitchen for more beer and food. After reconstructing Mt. Everest on his plate, he jumped back into his seat.

'Are you sure you aren't part pig?' Silas shielded his face from the carnage of stray food flying his way.

Odysseus surfaced, crumbs and mash covering his snout, “Hey! Where did you assmunches order this stuff?”

Zach finished off his beer and opened a second. “Didn't.”

“I, um. I made it.” Rory held up a hand. “With help from Mr. Abelard and Silas, of course.”

Odysseus went back to stuffing his face. “Huh. Guess you're... not such a worthless fag...”

Rory sighed but Silveste nudged his shoulder with a whisper of, “Verily, he is of a most _trying_ nature, isn't he?”

Rory giggled at that. He went back to nursing his beer as the crowds on TV got more heated.

* * *

 

The match continued for two more rounds.

Ticket-purchasers and pay-per-viewers were promised _five_.

And, while there was some grumbling beginning to boil away on social media and in the audience, the moment that Slashbringette had her championship belt in one hand and her daughter in the other...

Oh, you would melt into a puddle if you were there.

“What an excellent display.” Abelard applauded out of respectful reflex rather than delusion of the combatants hearing him.

“And you guys get together like this often?” Suraj finished off the last of the shrimp skewers.

Eirwen collected some of the empty plates around the main room. “Well,” He started, “Whenever I can afford too take time off from work. But, yeah,” He set the fishes into the sink, “We used to do this all the time when we were kids.”

“Here we are.” Rory pulled a large basin of sweet, saccharine really, liquer in front of Gahiji. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

“What are we doing again?” Mira sniffed at the mug in his hands.

Zach lifted a gumdrop in-between his middle and pointer finger. It was homemade, of course, and it shined like a sap-coated dragon's eye. “Toss the gumdrop into your mouth.”

“Don't chew it.” Added Eirwen. “Wait.”

“Then down your drink immediately after.” Rory concluded the little tutorial, setting a bowl of his signature cookies down upon the table to accompany the bowls of freshly churned blackberry ice cream.

Odysseus gruffed out, “This is way too much for some damn booze.” A stern look from Abelard made him cool it a bit.

Just a bit.

“Right then.” Rory announced, “Down the hatch!”

All around the room, everyone tossed their gumdrops in their mouths and chased them down with their sickly-sweet drinks.

“Oof!” Gahiji shook his head, laughing, “And I thought my favorite breakfast smoothie was sweet!”

Nephubos had their gumdrop on their head and held one of their tentacles in their cup. _“Are we doing it right?”_

“Interesting recipe...” Abelard said, finishing off his glass and helping Rory collect the dishes. What _was it_ that made him so quick in helping today?

“It's a little combination I stumbled across when I was younger.” Rory answered, “A great dessert companion _and_ it helps with sleep.”

“You are quite the resourceful one.” Abelard started the water and grabbed a scrubber. Rory hummed, getting the soap from under the sink.

“Oh, no. I wouldn't say that. I just... Picked up some things as a child. That's all.”

 

It made the yelling stop. Sometimes. He had forgotten which book he had found the recipe in but it was a Godsend whenever his father was in a mood. It only worked some of the time, though.

* * *

 

“God!” Eirwen swooned. The teacher stepped out of a steaming bathroom, pulling a towel over his hair. “Those jets in your tub should be _illegal_.”

“Hm.” Zach's face was obscured by a pillow, a towel lazily dripped over his hips with his upper-body left bare. Far more was his attention narrowed upon the delicate hands easing and compressing into his back.

Rory, freshly showered and in a fluffy purple robe, hummed along to whatever little earworm wriggling about his brain. He worried his bottom lip in-between his teeth. “Your shoulder has a really bad knot. Right here.”

“Hm.” Zach sat up and pulled on his arm, rolling it until there was a 'pop', and then setting it back. “There.”

Rory watched Zach roll away, his shoulders lifting and sinking. Eirwen sat down and tied his hair back. “Alright, I guess it's your turn.”

Once Eirwen was laying down, Rory poured out more oil into his palms and leaned into his work. He pressed his fingertips into the tense muscles near the base of his back and rubbed down to either side.

“Oh my _God_...” Eirwen pressed his face into the sheets, “I can die right here. Can I die right here?”

Rory shook his head, eyes on his work, “You may _not_ , you silly.”

It wasn't much longer after that when the slick of nightfall had runneth over the curtain of the day. Zach fell back into bed. He scrolled through the messages he had missed on his phone and rapidly sent off a response to one persistent one in particular.

“Going to bed with your phone on you isn't good for your health...” Rory muttered as he laid down next to him.

Eirwen agreed, “He has a point, you know.” Eirwen cradled Rory in between Zach and himself, all three of them having a pillow to themselves but sharing the sheets.

Zach looked at Rory and Eirwen. Then to his phone. And back. “Depends on the message.”

Rory pouted and boofed Zach with his pillow. It, of course, couldn't hurt him, but Zach set his phone down on the nightstand. “Enough, enough. Time for sleep. Are you two staying for breakfast?”

“I have to get back to Fae Rock...” Eirwen muttered, easing the lights down from an illuminating glow to an intimate dim. He would probably have to catch the first Air Tram followed by a bus.

“Abelard could probably give you a ride.” Zach muttered.

“I don't want to bug him...” Eirwen's growing tremors moved through the bed.

Rory gave him a gentle 'shush'. “Mr. Abelard's nice. He wouldn't mind, I'm certain.”

The tremors eased. Though the weight of uncertainty still pressed in on their backs.

“You teach his daughters their ABCs and hierarchies.” Zach finally said, “He's not going to mind.”

* * *

 

Rory tossed in his sleep. Not from the heat of a close body, not from the unfamiliar setting of a bed that wasn't his own. There was... something.

With this mattress.

He tried to be quiet.

Quiet is, quiet does... Come on, _please_?

… No.

No, he couldn't.

He rolled over and nudged Zach's shoulder. “Zach,” he whispered, “Zach...”

“Can't sleep?” Zach said, eyes still closed. Rory nodded. With a low breath, Zach got up and roused Eirwen from sleep.

***

“Ready?” Zach asked, holding up a broom. Eirwen yawned and nodded. The air 'whoofed' with a few practice swings and then Zach smacked it into the mattress that Eirwen was holding on its side. Rory held the sheets and blankets, watching Eirwen and Zach go above and beyond to keep him him comfortable.

He would never reject such kindness, but sometimes he did feel as though it was wasted on a nobody like him.

A shadow curled upon itself outside the window.

Zach kept swinging, minute flecks of dust flying away until, finally, a puff of stray fluff flew away from the mattress and hopped off.

“You,” Zach set the broom aside and helped Eirwen set the mattress back down, “Are probably the only person I know who has skin sensitive enough to sense dust-bunnies.”

“That's a desired trait...” Eirwen drowsed out, flopping face down back into bed, “In some... p.pl...”

***

He just _couldn't_ stay asleep that night..!

Rory adjusted his robe during his walk to the kitchen. He didn't know why, he just wanted something salty to settle his stomach so he could go back to bed. “Oh, crackers. Perfect.” He grabbed the box and a saucer and went to sit down at the island. Careful, not to wake up a dozing mimic...

The salt of a cracker was spreading over his tongue when he felt something. A gaze upon him: warm, not overbearing like a drought, but more like a desert oasis. Rory turned around and had to look upon through an expanse of tawny fur.

It was the sphinx... Gahiji, was it? “Hello again.” Rory said, watching Gahiji stroll over with that grace exclusive to the feline set.

He stopped a pace away from the human, Rory gulping down the mash in his mouth. “Did you... want some crackers?”

Gahiji shook his head. He didn't leave, though. He lifted Rory's chin with his paw, gentle as a forest breeze.

Rory stayed quiet. He wasn't going to jerk away or shriek when fearsome claws, even hidden behind toe-beans like they were, were so close to major arteries and soft, fleshy bits.

Gahiji was... looking over and through everything that he was. Those topaz eyes held the inviting warmth of the desert sun and the dissecting focus of a physician.

And then, just like that, he giggled and beamed; bouncing away much to the chagrin of the mimic sleeping in the main room. “You're just about there.”

“I'm... sorry?” Rory blinked but Gahiji was already almost to his room. But he did say one more thing.

“Remember: boots are way more comfortable than heels.”

And he slipped into his room, leaving a more than confuzzled bookseller in the kitchen.

* * *

 

Through a loosened latch.

Under the crack of a door.

And melting over the carpet, the inky blight of a persistent nightmare creaked and hissed through the condo. Its target, clueless and infuriatingly pitiful, sat in the kitchen.

A brandied blackberry born unto a bounty, just for him.

The nightmare bore up, mouth unhinging and body growing up from the floor. He slithered down the hall, hunger coloring the deep expanse of his eyes.

He was seized by the throat and slammed against the wall.

“ **Shit..!”** The nightmare seethed and spat, all manners of obscenities aimed at his assailant. **“Well, well, well... If it isn't the little guard-do – AH,** _ **damn it!**_ **”** His words choked off, gagging every vowel as Zach tightened his hold.

“I thought I've told you that you're not welcome here.” Said Zach, monotone going strong. “But here you are.”

The nightmare chanced a rasping chuckle. **“You're in over your head. Silly, stupid... Pathetic. Lonel--”**

Zach clenched his hand tighter.

“I don't want to push this any longer.” He hurled the nightmare to the floor, “Get out. This time I'll leave well enough alone, but next time...”

“ **Oh, what?”** The nightmare reared himself up, tendrils snapping out of it's back, **“Will you act _human_ for once? Become angry? Show _some_ emotion on that miserable mug of yours?!”**

Zach's facial expression didn't change. It couldn't. He did, however, slam his fist down the nightmare's throat; digging his nails into whatever raw, fleshy bits he could manage.

The nightmare's pitch eyes went wide. He lashed and grabbed onto whatever he could, but it was in vain.

“I need you to understand something.” Zach muttered. He could feel the nightmare's throat spasming around his arm. He couldn't be half-assed to care. “Whatever hard-on you have for tormenting Rory? It stops. Here. Tonight.”

What.

What did the human mean by _thaaaAAAAHHH!_

Zach pulled his arm out in one fell motion. However, he did so with his fingers still embedded in the nightmare's throat, so he came out with a bit more than he had gone in with. He shook the inky viscera from his hand when he noted the dark form slinking away, tail between it's not-quite-legs.

The nightmare had made a complete retreat by the time Zach went back to his room.

He really needed to get this stuff off of his hand before the stink set in.

* * *

 

 

“ _Baba~!” Little Faaria whined and fussed as her father carried her away, “What are you doing~? I wanna go to the sleepover too~!”_

_Her father shook his head, waiting for the elevator to open so as not to get too winded with steps. “Now, now... Little girls shouldn't spend all their time with boys.”_

_He endured his daughter's whines but, in reality, if it had been something like a sleepover at the Leadhooves', he wouldn't have minded. It was just..._ That _boy._

_He glanced back to see little Rory and Eirwen waving at their friend, and little Zach just..._

_Standing there._

_He shuddered and promptly stepped into the elevator when it dinged open._

“ _I wish Faaria could have stayed.” Rory sighed, stepping into the condo when Zach opened the door. Eirwen followed, staying closer to Rory than he did Zach. Quiet._

_He didn't want to attract their host's attention._

_Zach watched the two other children. His... friends._

_He was allowed to have friends, right?_

_He didn't have parents to say 'yes' or 'no' like the two boys in front of him. But he. Managed on his own._

_Managed._

_Manage..._

“ _Hungry.”_

“ _Oh, yeah!” Rory nodded and ran to the kitchen to get a chair. “I should get started on dinner. Eirwen, can you help me get some potatoes from the pantry?”_

_Eirwen, keeping his eyes on Zach, slowly sidled the wall until he got to where Rory needed him._

 


	50. Come on Down... To the Shooting Star Bazaar...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not often when the Shooting Star Bazaar, the world's most expansive, comprehensive collection of commerce and desires, appears in Dama Fristad... But when it does, you know that humans and nonhumans alike will lose their heads over a good bargain.

 

* * *

 

“God damn it...” The vamp male officer of DFPD sighed, writing out a tenth parking violation ticket for a pizza scooter from a place halfway down the block. He knew that they had their employees park way the fuck out yonder so that the front of their building so they could offer those primo parking spaces.

He rolled his eyes and stuck the note to the small vehicle and moved on. Just a few more cars, bikes, and midlife crises and he could call his quota met for the night.

“Ooh..!”

He stopped, foot up in the air, and walked it back to the pretty little Cerulean Carp Convertible that was parked in two spaces. “Hello Snowfall Bonus.”

The sky suddenly burst into a spray of light, each bullet streaking hither and fro. The vampire officer watched the spectacle, eyes entranced by the thousands of hues and levels of brightness. But he did have to get back to writing tickets eventually. License plate number –

His pen snapped in two.

“Seriously?” He tossed them aside and pawed his pockets for replacements.

The second pen was out of ink.

The third leaked ink all over his ticket book.

“Fucking Christ!” He hurled the pens and ticket-book to the sidewalk, hissing up at the stars above. “This is extortion, you assholes!”

* * *

 

Ra brought the morning light over Dama Fristad. He squawked out in abrupt shock at some of the confusion going on the the city.

***

“Can you not do this again?” A fire elemental rubbed at her temples. Her voice was a sigh as she looked upon the drow elf who frantically combed through her satchel and pockets.

“By Trillium the Fair's Sun-kissed hair,” the drow elf hissed, eyes wet with building tears, “I just had it! I planned this day out to the nines!”

The fire elemental sighed again, folding her arms. “If you don't want to get married, you can just say so. Instead of going through these theatrics.”

“No! NO!” The drow elf jabbed a finger in her betrothed's face, “I have my receipt for it right here!” She waved the lengthy slip of paper in front of the elemental's face. “I just... don't know where the hell it got t--”

Wait.

The morning news had mentioned something about shooting stars. She looked at her receipt and, lo and behold –

“FUCKING DAMN IT!”

* * *

 

At Fae Rock Academy, Eirwen was writing up progress reports while his students played through the sweet-smelling grass and fresh blooms. He kept an open ear out for any scuffed knees or pouty faces.

Besame and Constanz flew past one of the cabins, Clawssie and Blitzelle chasing after them.

Much quieter were Heidi and Juke sitting on a cabin's porch, Beatrisa laying on her tummy and scribbling something in a notebook and the twins Pepper Mint and Winter Mint fussing over when the turn the pages of a pop-up book.

Clawssie stopped in her paces and barked at the cabin. “Klickshe~! Come on, come on, come on already!”

Inside, Klickshe the little Kobold had just finished buffing her horns. She dusted her dress (pretty, poofy, and powder-blue) of any debris and ran to get her ankle-cuffs.

They were made of a deep blue leather, edged with silver lace. She tied them on with the lace and quickly rushed outside. “I'm coming!”

She closed the door behind herself and waved at the children who were running across the courtyard.

Her left cuff felt kind of funny.

Klickshe lost her footing as she got to the stairs. “Wha..?”

“Hey!”

“Hey!” Pepper and Winter Mint tossed the book away, “Are you okay?!”

“Are you okay?!”

Klickshe rubbed her head, a light sting between her horns. “I'm okay. I --”

Her eyes went wide upon reaching her left ankle...

***

Eirwen had gotten to the end of Constanz's progress report and felt like he'd earned a mini-lemonade break. He popped the tab of the bright silver and yellow can, a small spray of sweet kidding the air.

Taking a sip was ambrosia, and Eirwen tipped his head back –

Tears and hiccups had him coughing and sputtering, “Who got hurt?!” He tossed the can aside and ran like a man possessed to where the kids were. “Are you guys okay?! Do I need to call Rhubarbara?! Everyone stay calm!!”

The Clawssie, Blitzelle, and Pepper and Winter Mint were sitting around Klickshe. The little kobold sniffed, her eyes still watery. She lifted her left ankle, whimpering, “My... ankle cuff...”

Eirwen looked down. “Oh...” His shoulders immediately eased up. Yes, it was unfortunate to see the leather and lace torn clean in two and hanging off of the small, scaley ankle.

But at least the kids were okay.

“Klickshe,” Eirwen knelt down, “It's okay. It's just an ankle cuff, there's no reason to cry.”

Klickshe vehemently shook her head. “No! Uncle Roderiche gave me these! He...” Her tail slumped to the floor, “He...”

***

_Klickshe watched, breath stolen by awe, as the beautiful cuffs were fastened onto her ankles._

_“Hm...” Roderiche stepped back from his niece, inspecting his work. “It was a challenge, but, as with anything, I made it work. Those cuffs...” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout, “They were your mother's. When we were growing up, I mean.”_

_Klickshe gasped, her tail flicking back and forth, “Mom wore these...”_

_“Ja!” Roderiche stood up. He folded his arms and shot a supermodel pout to the right. Adjusting his monocle, he added, “They are very precious to me and, thus, should be precious to you.”_

_Klickshe nodded. For her uncle to let her have something so precious... She would protect them with her life!_

_Of course, Gille was seated at the breakfast bar; silently berating his lover for putting so much pressure on the child._

***

“He's gonna hate me...” Klickshe burrowed her face into her lap, shoulders shivering with her gentle tears.

Eirwen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. God, he hated, full-on detested, the sight of any of his students so unhappy. But he really wasn't sure what he could do about this. The cuffs were crafted with the most intricate, lacework growing in crystalline designs that grew ever-outward... The leather was from the hide of a highland calf and dyed with the sap of a blue moon oak.

“I know! I know, I know, I know, I know!” Clawssie ran round and round Eirwen and Klickshe, “We can go to the Shooting Star Bazaar and get someone to fix it there!”

“Clawssie...” Eirwen gently warned, “You can't just go and decide to leave school as you please. Besides, a seamstress like that more than likely would need you to pay for--”

“I have moneys!” Clawssie waved a wallet, a Slashbringette merchandised wallet, through the air. “We can make it a field trip or whatever! Come on!”

Eirwen opened his mouth to speak, cut off again by Clawssie running around him. “Come on! Come on! Come on! Come on!”

“Did someone say 'field trip'?” Masumi hopped over, Eirwen promptly saying,

“No, I--”

“Si!” Said Besame, “Mr. Eirwen's taking us to the Shooting Star Bazaar!”

Eirwen sighed as one excited child became two and two became four and on.

He opened his mouth once more, interrupted by the shaking of the ground.

“Are we really going to the Shooting Star Bazaar, Mr. Eirwen?” Asked the little giant who had been trying and failing to hide behind the trees.

Eirwen could only sigh. He looked up at the little giant and finally surrendered, “Yes, Caetux...”

He hoped that the bus had gas.

* * *

 

A toothy, cheesy mouth yawned up into the morning air. The Mozza family was the core conglomeration of Calzone Canids in Dama Fristad. Looking like a cheesy slime combined with an adorable dog beast-folk, dotted with pepperoni, peppers, and onion, they were always smiling, always smelling good, and always looking for customers for their family business of Pizza subscriptions.

The young male opened the door and scratched behind his sticky ear. Mm, he could smell the spices of an active marketplace: all curry and commerce and –

The Calzone Canid looked around, noting the draping silks and sparkling guidance lights of the Shooting Star Bazaar. Thousands of stalls and stores of hundreds of means and desires, all summoned together by the spirit of the bazaar for one of a few random days. “Mama!” He turned and barked, “It's a Bazaar day!”

* * *

 

Mira opened the pantry at the top of the morning. Two bowls of his favorite cereal would be the best way to start the day. He wrapped his tongue around a deep, violet cardboard box. Grimoire Grains, it displayed in shiny script across its front and down its sides. With sugar-crusted pieces, fragrant marshmallows, and, of course, toasted grains for that much needed bit of fiber (once you reached 800, your digestive tract just plummeted to shit), it was Dama Fristad's most popular breakfast cereal. Mira grabbed a jug of milk and a giant glass bowl. He went to pour out the Grimoire Grains first, because he wasn't some godless heathen, and got a crumb for his efforts.

“Eh?” He shook the box again and got dust. Oh, how he _screamed_. Like a cat in heat getting reamed with a baseball bat coated in barbed-wire. “Alright, who's the asshole?” He yanked himself into the main room and squalled at those present. “The dick-cheese?! The son of a piss-soaked malparido!?”

“It is _waaaayyy_ too early for this...” Suraj sighed from where he was doing yoga on the floor.

Mira crushed the empty box with his tongue, spitting out, “I didn't ask you, fucker! Who ate my _fucking cereal_?!”

Silveste had walked in, Blancher and Bruner behind him, shaking his mane. “This level of commotion and din all in accordance with an amount of saccharine foodstuffs?”

“This isn't just _any_ cereal!!” Mira yanked at his hair, “This was the _last_ box of Grimoire Grains! The wizards of Dama Fristad only – ONLY – sell this stuff at the Shooting Star Bazaar! And who the _hell_ knows when it'll be open next?!”

The mimic collapsed into his chest, whining and cursing in equal measure –

“Today.”

“Eh?”

Nephubos trilled out as they were placed into their wagon. A wallet slid inside of a pocket. And Zach was already approaching the door, tugging Nephubos behind him.

“The Shooting Star Bazaar is making an appearance today.” Zach said, easy as the day was long.

“Is your statement made with utmost confidence?” Silveste asked, “Because I am in need of a new lathering agents for my scalp-bound folli--”

“You need shampoo.” Zach cut the unicorn prince off, “Easy. Simple. Short.”

Gahiji peeked in from the roof of the scene. He grinned, “Are you guys heading out to the Shooting Star Bazaar?” He landed on his feet, the apartment shaking on impact. “Ooh, I wanna come too! I don't really _need_ anything, but I'm sure that there will be a whole bunch of stuff to spend money on and regret later!”

Zach shrugged. “If you're coming, you may as well come now and hold your piece until later.” He opened the front door and, rather than the docile hallway of the building, it led directly into an alley draped in rich silks and perfumed with spices, incense, and sweet herbs. Shouts and calls to purchase echoed from some unseen road.

“What the _hell_ is all this?” Fane, who had decided to stop being miserable for a second, stepped out of the basement just in time to see the hall be... Not that.

Zach stepped out into the bazaar, tugging Nephubos's wagon behind himself. He felt the others following before he answered, “My parents. According to Siklon, the Shooting Star Bazaar was their favorite place. So the condo leads right into it whenever it makes an appearance.”

Mira pouted and folded his arms. He hadn't expected to do any shopping today! Not like he was a broke motherfucker or anything, but he wanted to fume and vent some more!

“Hey.”

He turned at the sound of snorting, crunching, and belching. Odysseus stood behind him, eating a giant bowl of cereal. “Where the fuck did everyone go? Is the bazaar open?”

Mira looked to the bowl.

And then he looked at the bull.

Then he looked to the bowl.

And then back to the bull.

Then he looked at the bowl.

And then back to the bull.

Then back to the bowl.

And then back to the bull.

“You asshole!!”

“What the fuck is _your_ damage, you portable jailbait?!”

“GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING CEREAL!!”

* * *

 

Who should hop off a bus to the bazaar than one Rory Fontaine. “Right then.” He walked down the curving, swirling roads of silk and spice. So many treasured sights and sought-after wares to tickle one's senses into a fevered frenzy.

Taste.

Consume.

Buy.

BUY.

BUY!

It was a necessity that the bazaar only made itself known a few times a year.

Certainly there were things that Rory could stand to take a look at. “Oh...” Rory's feet stepped towards the store that was offering out-of-print geography books for slashed prices. “Wait. No!” He shook himself out of it and kept walking.

He was there for a core reason.

***

_“Rory,” A voice familiar to the young man in question, “When you... have a moment...”_

_Rory hopped down from his trusty rolling ladder with a chest of novels in his arms. Why, she had been with him since the time when his family was still in Dama Fristad. “Be there in a moment, Ela.” Rory called back to the ladder. He combed through the chest's dusty offerings; finding the specific fantastical flounce his latest customer needed for her, ahem, lonely nights without her husband._

_“Excuse me!” A harpy walked up to the counter. She had the type of haircut that made you immediately think that her name was 'Karen'. Looking like she lactated pickle juice didn't help either. “I have been here for almost an hour! Can you get me my order already?!”_

_Rory could have pointed out that the harpy had literally just walked into the shop ten minutes prior, but he didn't want to fight today... After getting her information, Rory walked back to the ladder and hopped on._

_“Rory..!”_

_Rory felt the ladder shift before he could catch himself. It jerked down and sent Rory, thankfully, only a few feet to the floor._

_“Ah!”_

_“Are you alright?!” Ela asked, falling to the floor with a crack. Rory shook himself from the daze and jumped back up, ignoring the squawking suburbanite at the counter. “Oh Ela!” He bit his lower lip and looked at the damage to the loyal ladder tsukumogami. A dent in the wood. He could fill that. A crack. That could be patched. But, oh! One of her wheels had cracked in two..._

_That was a full replacement; no amount of mending could do that up._

_“Oh Ela, why didn't you tell me your balance was shifting?”_

_“I didn't want to worry you about all that.” Ela whispered, “Your customer left.”_

_“She'll come back. Probably. More important, though,” He thought long on it, picking up one of the wheel's pieces. “This is a lapis lazuli wheel... Where in the Districts Six am I going to find a replacement?”_

_Squeak-eek!_

_Rory turned and looked down at a squat bit of cabinet to see one of the mice who lived in his house. She was waving her arms as much as she could to bring attention to Rory's phone. “Yes? Is everything alright?”_

_The mouse pointed to the screen, particularly the blinking banner scrolling across._

_“It's...” Rory's eyes widened. The Shooting Star Bazaar was back in town? That was perfect! He was sure to find at least three vendors who sold charmed replacement parts!_

***

Of course Ela had tried to convince him that it wasn't such a big deal, that they could at least finish the day of business. But Rory wasn't hearing any of it.

He walked and merged into the crowd crossing the street into a new, shifting array of shops and stands. When he reached the other side, he stepped over to a statue of a parrot perched on top of a pole that glimmered like gold but sparkled like stars.

“What's your inquiry, SQUAWK?!” Said the statue.

“I'm looking for a replacement wheel for my dear friend.” Rory replied, “She's a tsukumogami?”

The parrot's glossy eyes rolled around in the stationary sockets. Twice to the left, three up, once... to... the... right –

“Third street over, eight blocks down! SQUAWK!!”

“Thank you so much!” Rory was on his way once more. He would get the wheel, maybe some food ingredients from the import specialist stores, he could talk to that tortoise who was having a hard time of it –

Rory stopped and made a complete change of course. “Excuse me? Sir?”

“Hm?” The tortoise adjusted the smallest pair of glasses Rory had ever seen. “Why, aren't you a fair-looking thing?” He laughed and tried to cross the busy road once more. He didn't get far before having to retreat. Hell, he hadn't even gotten a foot onto the asphalt.

“Did...” Rory offered, “You need some help crossing?”

The tortoise adjusted his glasses again. It had Rory somewhat wondering what the point was, but hey.

“This has been an interesting day!” The tortoise laughed, “My kids offer me a day of shopping to get me out of their scales, then I get to see the famous Dama Fristad traffic up close and personal, and now I have a pretty face offering to escort me across the road!” He laughed again when Rory flushed a bit at being called 'pretty'.

The tortoise offered his arm for Rory to take, the human giving a small bit of curtsy before hooking his arm around the scaley appendage. Rory waved at the djinn directing the flow of traffic for the bazaar. It took them a moment but they noticed and managed to slow things down just enough so Rory and the tortoise could walk.

“Now,” The tortoise began while they made their slow journey across the road, “What brings a fah thing like you to a hustle and bustle like this, huh?”

Rory shook his head, glasses sliding down his nose, “Thank you for your compliments, sir, but I'm not really... anything that special. Oh! I'm trying to find a replacement wheel for my friend. She's a ladder – well, actually, she's a tsukumogami, but she could still really use a replacement wheel since hers broke this morning.”

“I see...” The tortoise hummed, scratching at his neck.

They made it to the other side of the road. “Sorry for talking your ears off, sir.” Rory bowed his head a bit, “But I hope you're able to enjoy the rest of your trip!”

“Thanks again, young one!” The tortoise waved Rory off. When the human was long gone, he nodded to himself. “He'll be a good fit.”

* * *

 

All of Dama Fristad's wizards answered to an ancient power that was condensed into one being. Wizard Superior, the rank and address given to the all-powerful patron of the city's wizards.

Of course, his appearance didn't betray his age and wisdom. Not when there were so many high-level archaic spells for disguising the ravage of time.

A vial of pink. A shaker of blue. Clouds of purple, yellow, and green. Shimmers of red and white all washing into a giant cauldron the size of a grown man.

“Now, what could this be?” A large ladle sunk into the mixture and whipped, growing faster, until the mixture combined and began hardening into thousands of sweetened, tiny morsels. “A fresh batch of those most precious grains. You two,” He pointed to two of his students, “Get some boxes ready, I imagine that we'll be getting some potential buyers soon.”

When dozens of duplicates of the Grimoire Grains box stood upon the table, that lovely shade of purple and golden script standing stark and proud for curious and hungry eyes, Wizard Superior summoned his staff from the shimmering ether. One wave up and to the left had the cereal pouring into the boxes, not sparing a single crumb.

His students jumped in, using their own learned magics to seal the boxes and mark them for purchase.

“Alright, all of you!” That call came from a witch. A _powerful_ witch, even. “The lot of ya will be lookin' for spell books that cover spells outside of yer comfort-zones for your mid-month exams!” One of the heads of Dama Fristad's man coven. But, of course, all the respect of such a standing was shoved aside when Wizard Superior could far easily slake his imaginary superiority fetish.

“Students.” Wizard Superior cleared his throat, “Look there. See what kind of miserable, paltry existence would await you if you capped your experience with the _rudimentary_ levels of mere _witchcraft_.”

“Are ye flappin' yer gums again, bookworm?” She stomped over, frizzy orange hair bouncing with her steps. “Look at your lot: trapped between pages and ink all day! It's a wonder you can perform _any_ sort of parlor tricks, let alone magic!”

“O-oh, hey!” A woman who looked to be a mix between a hippy and spoiled rich kid stepped onto the scene. “Are you guys talking about magic? Maybe me and my students c-could--”

Both the witch and the wizard tore away from their dispute to attack their common enemy, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, WICCAN!!”

“Infernal father almighty, I canno' stand ye!”

“Your mere presence is draining all of the intelligence out of the air.”

“The _only_ thing I hate _more_ than lazy, two-timing Wiccans!” The witch tugged at her hair, “Are those manipulative, self-centered alchemists!!”

“Oh...” The wiccan deflated and walked away.

* * *

 

Zach waited a second. Then:

As soon as he sent it, he regretted it. “I'll be back in a bit.”

“Indeed you shall!” Silveste peeked from behind a tent selling saplings, “For I am in need of your assistance to find my follicle cleansing agent!”

“Hey! Wait!” Mira shouted from his stroller, “Where are you going?! I need help carrying my stuff back home!”

Gahiji, who had been trying on bangles and baubles from the nearby embellishment boutique, stopped jingle-jangling long enough to receive a flash of golden insight across his eyes. “Mm...” He frowned and folded his forelegs. “Those are _really_ hard to get rid of. I hope he knows what he's doing... Oh well,” Gahiji shook everything off of himself and piled them onto the counter. “I'll take all of these, please!”

***

“Ooh..!!”

Eirwen could already tell that this was the type of outing that would have gone a _lot_ smoother with four other chaperones. “Alright guys,” He announced, “I know that there are a lot of things to see and taste and touch, but we should first get Klickshe's cuffs fixed and then – I don't know why I even bothered.” He looked around and, of course, the kids were all gone. Even Caetux, which was honestly such an accomplishment for a child that size to disappear that Eirwen couldn't even be upset.

***

Besame readjusted his glasses to get a better look at the storefronts and raucous shouting all around. “Wow... I didn't even know this many stores could exist!”

Blitzelle had his face shoved into a barrel of sweet-scented salt-licks while Clawssie and Klickshe asked any adult who would listen where they could find a tailor.

“It's almost overwhelming...” Masumi whimpered. “How about...” She removed a marshmallow bunny from her basket and chomped into it: the sweet, nostalgic taste easing her flight-for-the-love-of-God-FLIGHT response. “Oh, Heidi!”

“Hm?” Heidi replied, pulling out some of her spending money (allowance from her father).

“Is that the bag you got for Snowfall?” Masumi took a good look at the sizable, pastel green cloth bag embroidered with swirling whorls of flowers.

“Ja.” Heidi held the bag up, eyes glowing in a warm smile, “I wish... I knew who got it for me, though.”

Juke was quiet as he helped pull Blitzelle out of the barrel.

* * *

 

Rory knocked back some of the juice bottle he had picked up. All the walking and giving people directions to the best of his ability really parched him. But he was getting closer! All he had to do was make a turn in the next alley –

Huh, she looked a bit in over her head...

– And continue on until –

She tip-toed forward and was brushed to the ground for her efforts, wide, dark eyes ballooning out as her chest heaved and swelled in preparation for a full-scale panic-attack.

Rory rushed over. “Excuse me.” He kept his voice as calm as possible, “If I can just...” He rested a hand upon the tepid, scaley texture of the creature's blue skin. He had read about Deep Ones in the long-worded rantings and ravings of an ill-nutritioned man.

Most of them stuck to Aquacia's deepest workings, far beyond the cold, salty depths of the sparkling waters. Occasionally, though, someone would venture to the surface to experience the sun on their gills. And, apparently, get spooked out of their scales by the large crowds of a good Shooting Star Bazaar.

“I'm sorry..!” She panted, she _wheezed_ , “I'm not..! Used to..! such large spaces..!” Rory winced and dug around in his shopping bag for a bottle of water.

“Come now: deep breaths, in and out.” He offered it to her, gently pat-pat-patting her shoulder to ease her drinking and breathing. He watched her fins lift and then drift back down. Lift! And then drift... back... down...

“I-I'm sorry.” The Deep One whispered, “I'm not used to...” She waved her hands about herself.

Rory hummed. “It is a lot to take in. Is this your first time?”

The Deep One nodded. “I usually stick to singing – I sing for Uncle Siklon's Somnis Choir, you see – but my choir leader, well, she needs a certain record that no one in our troupe seems to have. I thought that I'd get some above land sweets and items of interest f-for my troupe while up here, but...” She whined and shook her head.

“Hm...” Rory thought and let the motions tick. Then he smacked his fist into his palm. “I think I have an idea.”

***

The Deep One's webbed feet smacked against the tiles of the store's floor. Her eyes were wide once more, body trembling from where she had her damp body pressed up against Rory's side. “Right then,” Rory whispered to her, helping her to the line, “Are you ready?”

She shook her head.

“Mm. How about now?”

A slower shake. Which ramped up in intensity when someone bumped into them.

“Well,” Rory hummed, “That's an attempt.”

They got to the front of the line. Much to Rory's horror, he recognized the spotted hide and impossibly wide, toothy maw of a [crocotta](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e3/3e/68/e33e684a7291d249f33c1f9bbda313a1.png) running the eclectic shop of odds and ends.

“What do _you_ want, then?” The creature grinned and spoke, the voice too familiar to Rory. Too much of a tease.

Too

Much

Pai--

Rory leant down his ear. The Deep One moved close and whispered into it. “That record behind you?” Rory asked the crocotta, “Could we please buy it?”

The crocotta lifted a jagged eyebrow but it grabbed the record and wrapped it up. “What else are ya takin'? You aren't going to waste my time, are ye?”

Rory leant down and the Deep One whispered some things off of the list she had in her head. “I'll take six bottles of ShimmerAle. One of those vanilla cream cakes. Three of those glass orb paperweights – oh?” He listened for the whispers. “My apologies, _six_ of the paperweights. And seven copies of _Re_...” Rory's lips snapped shut. A wash of scarlet came over his face and he removed his glasses to spare them the amount of steam that was building.

“Oi!” The crocotta smacked their paw to the counter, jostling the assortment. “If you're done, pay up and get the fuck out of the way! If not, speak the _fuck_ up!”

Rory looked to the Deep One, his eyebrows asking 'are you _sure_?'

She nodded.

He pursed his lips and tilted his head from side to side. In for a penny, he supposed as he brought some money out. “Could I get _eight_ copies of _Reddition de Chaleur_?”

The crocotta split their head open laughing. Had he... Lord and lass, had he really – “Bit of deviancy to warm things up with a cold fish, huh?!”

“What?! No!” Rory frantically waved his hands about, “We're not a couple!”

The crocotta ignored him and bagged up the products. “Come on! Shut up and pay me if yer done!”

 


	51. Hitch Me Up, Spread Me Wide, Make Me See Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the Shooting Star Bazaar shenanigans. ... Try saying that three times fast.

 

* * *

 

“And I'll tell ya,” Said a purple kangaroo with luxuriously soft, fragrant fur to those near her tent of hair products, “It's night and day settin' up shop 'ere in Dama Fristad compared to back in 'Straya!”

“You're guffin' it up!” A pixie puffed up as she landed upon the table to inspect the offerings for herself.

“Like 'ell I am!” Said the purple kangaroo, “Do ya know what it's like trying to take a piss and you accidentally drop a bottle of conditioner? Next thing ya know, you have a bunch of shitty suburban housewives mugging you for your shit!”

“So, basically,” Zach held his arm out towards the lane of stores and booths and tents that handled hair and beauty products. “Anything you need for making yourself look presentable can be found here. From getting rid of acne, lipsticks for that perfect pouty porn-star look, or even getting cum out of your hair --”

***

Mo Chou was busy mixing a special order of lubricant at Eros and Mine. “Aiya!” She said as an abrupt shock hit her system.

“Baby girl, you alright?” Risco called from his workshop.

***

“ – You can find it here.”

Silveste walked over to one store and peeked through the window. “No, that won't do...”

Several booths... “None of these...”

He poked his head into a boutique, a beautiful boutique with all of its shampoos in crystal bottles. Its salves and conditioners in boxes of crushed, pressed velvet and pearl.

“No, none of these businesses has the item which I am seeking out this instance in the chronological cycle!”

Zach blinked. A slow blink. “What's wrong with them?”

“They just aren't right!” Silveste shook his head, mane bouncing around his face. “The hair cleansing agent --”

“Shampoo.”

“ – That I use is... Soft, like the rains of spring. Sweet, like that first taste of adolescent infatuation, and strong like the Aurora Borealis's cleansing light!”

Zach looked the unicorn around. “Waxing poetic has to be my least favorite genre of conversation.”

“The point being,” said Silveste, “Is that my shampoo isn't here! Oh, I'll probably have to send home for a new bottle...”

Zach slowly stopped paying attention in favor of his phone. There were already two messages waiting for him, in fact.

'So, you free today?'

Two minutes later, to the second.

'Guess that's a yes.'

“Well, someone's bound to have something you can use.” Zach started to depart, “Just come find me when you're ready to go home.”

“You're leaving?!” Silveste whinnied, “Wait, you --” But he thought on it. “You know what? Yes, I give you permission to head on without me.”

“Already eight steps ahead of you.” Zach walked into an alleyway down the street from the unicorn prince.

He opened his phone to see that the latest message was a picture. Opening it revealed an image of the alley he was standing in, in the exact spot, to the inch. The sole difference, of course, was the hulking creature in the picture. All inky, shadowy black covered in thick, lush fur that whipped and wicked to and fro. But what drew the eye, rather than opaque, shining eyes and rending claws, was the creature's face. A canid-skull faced outward from the pitch-black darkness of hair and muscle. And despite said skull lacking muscle or sinew to speak, Zach felt the creature's playful smile when he turned around and faced him there, in the flesh.

“Hey Zach...” The Mal.0, who happened to be named Milo, stepped forward and wrapped the human into a strong hug of dark warmth. “Glad I caught ya. Didn't want to miss ya before you left the bazaar.”

“You just wanted a quickie.” Zach didn't push him away, he just wanted the truth to be the truth.

Milo rolled his eyes, pressing his teeth to Zach's neck. “What are you even doing here today? You're not usually one for the chaos of a good deal.”

“Helps to have a direct doorway to what you need.” Zach replied. He was quiet after that, listening in on a fiery clash between a beastfolk salamander and [cherufe](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/10/8d/27/108d27d188a998ee5386efef9ccff4be.jpg) over a bargain-priced vacuum cleaner. “Probably not going to stay for too long. Just have to make sure that my tenants know how to get back home, maybe pick up some new gym clothes...”

“Mm-hm.” Milo pulled away, moving behind the human. “What's up after?”

A low breath left Zach's lips. “I need some replacements for my home shrine.”

“Mm.” Milo slid down the slopes and valleys of Zach's body, claws catching on each dip.

“Again, Maybe some new gym clothes.”

“God, your ass is insane...” Milo nodded along to Zach's words, his ghastly eyes pinned to the firm cheeks in his sights.

Zach thought on it for a bit. “I was thinking of visiting the Brothers La Burneau.”

“Hm, the Brothers La Burneau...” Milo snapped his teeth on the hem of Zach's jeans, claws undoing the buttons.

He shook his head and stopped. “The Brothers La Burneau?”

Milo gnashed his teeth together. “The Brothers La Burneau?! Zach, come on!”

“Why are you overreacting?” Zach asked the Mal.0, watching him stand to his feet.

“You can do _so much_ better than a couple of drunk crocodiles, Zach.”

“They're actually alligators--”

“ _Zach..!_ ” Milo groaned, brushing his hair back. “Come on..!”

Zach leaned against the wall. He looked the Mal.0 up and down. Plenty of muscles to overpower his own. That dark, thick hair, that skeletal face that would scare most away.

No wonder the two of them made such good fuck-buddies. “You just want to get your dick wet.”

Milo blinked until he smiled, black tongue lolling out of his mouth. “You love it. That's why you keep me on in your fav contacts.”

Zach watched Milo come closer, trapping him between a cold wall and a scalding body.

“Get over here.” Zach pulled Milo down, the Mal.0 slipping his tongue into Zach's mouth at the soonest convenience.

“Mmph.” Zach snuffled out a brief noise. His thigh pressed up into the valley between Milo's legs; something growing ever stiffer as it ground back against the offered surface.

“Fuck yeah, you're not wasting any time.” Milo's thoughts bounced around in Zach's skull loud as any conversation in the flesh. Zach cracked an eye open. Milo had his jeans down to his knees and a bottle of some type of hand oil in his claws.

“And up we go!”

Milo lifted Zach up by the meat of his thighs, keeping them spread wide and pressing him into the wall.

Zach snatched the small bottle and reached down. He felt a familiar heat underneath the thick tresses and wasted no time in parting them, striping his hand over the Mal.0's thick cock and spreading the slick. Up the nine inches and the pulsing veins wound over it, fingers spread from each other in a vain attempt to meet.

"Mm..." Milo locked over Zach's ear and left the shell slick and sensitive. "I'm not really made at you for fucking around with the brothers La Burneau or any other orc or nonhuman."

Zach turned away when Dr. Bodicen's face popped into his mind.

"Nah. You see..." Milo made sure that Zach was secure against the wall and yanked his pants down to one ankle. "I know I'm special."

The last words were said in a low, crackling growl of a voice. Still, Zach wasn't going to just let Milo have the lion's portion of this conversation.

"How's that?"

He felt Milo's grin. "Because..." Zach bit his lip as Milo rut into the crack of Zach's ass, grinding against the sensitive whole waiting for something to fill it.

Well. His mom always told him to never keep 'em waiting. “I'm the only one...”

One moment he was rutting up against Zach. The next he was bottoming out in one hard, slam of a thrust.

There was the slightest burn. An overwhelming sensation of being _full_ and pulled tight around Milo's monster of a cock. Zach knocked his head back against the wall and was unable to stop the abrupt shout that left his clenching teeth.

Milo's words held the tone of a smirk. “Who can fuck some emotion into you.”

“God _damn it_...” Zach swallowed the spit that had welled up in his mouth. “ _Holy fuck..._ ”

“There we go.” Milo slipped back before fucking back in, motions turning from slow grinds into a slick exchange once the hole choking him down loosened up.

Zach's toes curled, his hands scrambled up Milo's chest; fingernails digging into his shoulders. _Fuck_ _ **yes**_ , this is what he loved the most about fucking nonhumans! When they slipped into the primal soup of natural, bestial instinct, and rutted like mad into or against the nearest human body.

***

_Zach landed on his back, the impact sending everything flying and rolling away from the web-covered desk of..._

“ _Cheeky little boy.” Dr. Bodicen smirked. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his jacket before leaning in, grinding, humping between Zach's open thighs. “_ This _is the reason you always come back for our sessions, isn't it?” Dr. Bodicen licked a scalding line from Zach's collar-bone up to his ear with a tongue stained black as ink. “Delectable little boy. This is all_ so _very unprofessional.”_

_He grabbed Zach's chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding him steady as he devoured the young human's mouth; fingers on his free hand scrambling to remove those cumbersome pants._

 

“ _How we doin', baby?” The second brother La Burneau grinned like a cat enjoying some canary cordon bleu._

_Zach leaned back with a low hiss. “Better than... Shit.” He bore down against the dick burrowing into him. “Just... give me a second.”_

_He felt the gator's tapered dick all the way up into his stomach. The base of it stretched him out, a tinge of a burn edging out the lustful descent._

_Zach cracked one eye open to see the older La Burneau climb on top of him. The gator grabbed at his chest, groping his pecs with a ferocity that echoed the hunger in his eyes. “Gade sa yo tits bèl nan ou, gason...” He growled and rolled a nipple between his fingers._

“ _Please don't call them th --” Zach's words fizzled out as the second La Burneau pulled out and snapped his hips back in._

***

“Come on.” Zach panted, locking his ankles around Milo's thighs. “Come on, I have... Have to get back in time to shop around. So, come on.” Zach licked his suddenly dry lips.

“Fuck me like you mean it.”

* * *

 

“ _Shit..!”_

Rory's foot held just off the ground. He knew that voice. But, really, it had more. _Tone_ to it than he was used to hearing. “Zach?” He turned towards the nearest alley. “I didn't know you'd be out today. Not that I had any reason to, I mean...” He passed several wooden pallets awaiting destruction. “I'm not stalking you or – or anything, heh.”

Rory continued on, footsteps not particularly light _or_ heavy. He didn't think twice until he heard harsh, aborted breathing, and wet, croupy growls with laps of a long tongue against nipping teeth.

Oh, Rory knew. It was deep in that fiery pit of natural intuition, but even then he pulled against the knowledge that breathed down his neck in those sickly sweet puffs that tell you:

'You know the truth. But you don't want to see it.'

Rory stopped to press against a well-maintained dumpster. He took a breath to quiet himself and then peeked over –

Zach's arm was wrapped around the neck of what appeared to be – Yes, it _was_ a Mal.0 – and one of his legs wound around the narrow, furred waist.

The Mal.0's claws dug into the meat of Zach's ass, driving him down and up his slick shaft; his mass keeping the human against the grungy wall.

Why was Rory still watching? He wasn't a voyeur or anything like that, honest! But, as someone whose only exposure to erotic material was whatever volumes he could procure and keep in Peony Pavilion's adult bookshelf, seeing this sort of thing in person was...

The fact that it was Zach brought a whole other layer to it.

It wasn't exactly a secret that Zach loved to engage in certain... activities. The man was the textbook definition of a teratophile, after all.

The Mal.0 pulled back, licking his teeth. “You gonna come? Huh? Fuck, I will _never_ get enough of this ass!” Furred hips slowed to a grind and a roll, Zach knocking his head back and biting back a keen of a moan.

Rory fell back. That one noise. It was something so simple but for it to come from _Zach_? 'Oh God, don't think that way of a friend, Fontaine!' Rory rushed back to the main road. He weaved through the path and shook his head of lewd imaginings. 'He's your _friend_ , Fontaine! Get your mind out of the gutter...'

“And back on task.” Deep breath: one in, one out. Another set.

Now.

Back on task.

… Damn it, he was still thinking about it.

* * *

 

A glass display set the stage for all of its precious contents to shine forth and attract customers. “Oh, thank the _gods_!” The drow elf from that morning saw an exact replica of the engagement ring she had tried to offer her fiancee. “I mean, it's kind of bullshit that I have to buy this _again_ , but at least it's _here_!” She wrote out a check and told the goblin minding the store the necessary measurements.

Claws caked in thick, cloying soot stretched the band and shined the stones. “Like this?”

“Yes!” The drow elf reached for the ring.

“Caetux..!!”

The young giant shook the ground with his frantic fleeing down the bazaar road. Both elf and goblin braced themselves, the little giant sobbing his eyes out. Salty water rained down by the bucketful, crashing here and through.

“Caetux! Come back!” Eirwen jogged after, breathing even enough to call out again. “Caetux, it was just a spider! They didn't want to hurt you! It literally couldn't even fathom the possibility!”

Both the human and giant soon passed and the shocks to the earth soon faded.

“O... kay...” Anyway, she had a proposal to get back to – A splash of salty water crashed into her. She gasped, coughing once the water sluiced to the ground. “Watch your crotch-spawn, buddy!” She clenched her fingers around air.

Air.

“Oh!” She looked to see that the ring was gone, washed to some unknown storm-drain. “You've gotta be _fucking_ shitting me!!”

* * *

 

Mannequins that bore striking similarities to the great athletes of myth: Hercules, Louhi, Momotaro, Oya, Rama, and the like, stood around a store that sold athletic supplies and garments.

The shopkeeper walked around, adjusted the sweatbands on one of their wrists, and then rung a bell.

The mannequins all groaned and shifted to life. They stretched their arms and rolled their shoulders out, some taking the chance to get drinks before the next portion of their shift.

“Can I try these on?” Someone asked the shopkeeper. They mindlessly directed them to one of the dressing rooms before walking to their main counter.

They surely had enough time to scroll through their favorite social media site before having to work again.

“HEY!”

Well, fuck them too, then.

They looked up to see a boisterous Minotaur bringing up a random assortment of products. The pile fell to the counter. “So, what do you know about this stuff anyway?”

“I--”

“Tch, don't even answer.” The Minotaur scoffed and shook his head, “Those scrawny ass arms and that nonexistent chest? I bet you've never walked into a gym in your life, you limp-dicked faggot!”

Ooh, they _really_ hated this guy. Were they going to buy anything or...

“Now, see, _these_ are the arms of someone worth a shit...” The Minotaur flexed his arms and, yeah, his muscles were up to bodybuilding code and standards. But, really, this guy's personality was eight different kinds of awful. And the customers who had come in during his gun-show agreed, if their murmurs were anything to go by.

A soft 'click'. The dressing rooms. Right, someone _had_ gone in before this headache had come in.

Oh. Oh _wow_... Now _that_ was impressive. There was just something about a skin-tight, sleeveless hoodie stretched to the point of ripping over firm, supple young muscle... And those tights fit those killer thighs like a second skin. All centering around an ass that could feed a hungry man for a year.

“Do you have this in any other – Oh, Odysseus. Hm.” Zach looked away. “If I'd known you were going to come here...”

“You would have _what_?!” Odysseus snorted and huffed, puffs of heated air leaving his muzzle, “Come on, you little bitch! Tell me, face to face!!” Odysseus started picking through his pile. He wasn't staying around Zach longer than he needed to, the fucking pussy.

“... Can you believe..?”

“I _know!_ I guess that heavenly features _aren't_ just reserved for the divine!”

“Such stature! Such strength!”

Odysseus knew it. Bitches loved his pecs and arms and the whole damn muscle-package. Could never stay away for long. “Yep, I know... I'm pretty damn impressive!” He turned towards the awed group with a flex in his arms and a smirk on his lips.

At least, until, he saw their line of sight and sputtered out in shock. Their eyes were on Zach, especially the scintillating assortment of cuts and angles he presented in the clothes he was trying on. Not to mention that he had a subtle sort of... What, a _glow_ to him?

That glow of someone who had just gotten done down by some particularly good dick.

“Wow...” One of the other customers swooned as they walked by, “You have _amazing_ muscle structure~”

“What the _shit_?!” Odysseus bellowed out, “What about _me_?!”

* * *

 

“Attention shoppers!” A harpy with feathers like cotton and skin smooth like chocolate flew over the streets of the bazaar. Some stray feathers fluttered to the ground below with every beat. “The Shooting Star Bazaar is now proud to present a three-hour period of 75% off on...”

Everyone on the ground waited with baited breath. Potential customers ready to pounce. Shopkeepers and employees ready for battle.

“Household electronics!”

“OUT OF THE WAY!” A young dragon housewife barreled through the nearest crowd, a herd of nonhumans and humans following the moment the announcement finished; all passing a music store that definitely had an affiliation for the grungy aspects of life.

Fane was glaring and scowling.

Well, he _always_ did that, but here he was glaring and scowling at the buds in Suraj's ears. “If you didn't want to come out with me, you could have stuck to doing your shitty normie yoga at home or whatever.”

“What?” Suraj asked, removing one of the earbuds from his pointed ears, “Sorry, did you say something?”

Fane rolled his eyes and scoffed in that exasperated way teenagers do. He looked down at the posters and magazines in the store they had wandered into: everything dedicated to a more Gothic lifestyle but with none of the grade-school regret that most other such stores had. “Why do you even have those?”

Suraj picked up a particularly violent and bloody wall-hanging of Shiva the Destroyer and rolled it up for purchase. “It just helps... I don't know, keep things calm. You know?”

Fane had found several albums he was looking for. “Finally, some good fucking music.”

 

The writer of these accounts would like to take the opportunity to inform the audience that it was, in fact, _not_ good fucking music but Fane was a spoiled, angsty teenager and spoiled, angsty teenagers have shit taste.

 

Fane piled up the albums he wanted and said, “What the fuck ever, just keep your ears open when I'm talking t – HEY!”

Suraj was halfway across the store and Fane was having _none_ of it if he and his unimpressive stature had anything to say about it.

He fumed and pouted and tapped his foot to the floor. Not getting anything in response for his little tantrum, of course.

Well... Except for the obscene view of a taught, muscled ass and the tail that teasingly swerved in front of it with the rakshasa's locomotion.

“Fucking _fuck_...” Fane found it way too hard to turn away.

* * *

 

A large wooden spoon smacked against a drum with a heavy 'THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!' It beat in tandem with the thrum of the speakers spinning around the house/business of the Mrs. Mozza and her family of Calzone Canids.

“Come get your Pizza Dog House subscriptions today!!” Mrs. Mozza barked out into a megaphone. Two of her pups followed behind her, tossing free sample slices of pizza to any human who was in the vicinity.

“Hey!”

Mrs. Mozza stopped the mini procession to notice the pegasus running the storefront dedicated to fairy-floss/cotton candy/daddy's beard/fluffed-up diabetes. He poofed himself up, hair and feathers, and neighed,

“How _dare_ you poison the masses with that addictive slop! There are _others_ trying to run businesses around here!”

“Addictive? _Our_ pizza? Wha..?” Mrs. Mozza grabbed another gooey slice of pizza right out of the box and dug right in: sauce dripping down her chin and cheese _strrreeeeching_ between her muzzle and the slice. “Me and my pups are around this stuff every day! We’re not addicted!” She shoved the rest of the slice into her mouth and licked her lips. “Hm… Can’t say the same for our human customers, though; they can’t live without the stuff!”

The Calzone Canid minding the cash-register was typing in orders as fast as she could hear them out. “Three year subscription? Yes indeedy! Ooh, five years? Yep, we do that too!” She licked away some of the cheese that was her paw, more sauce and cheese growing over the spot. “Ten years?” She asked a customer who had shoved his way to the front. “Right on it!”

* * *

 

Meanwhile, the kids of Fae Rock Academy journeyed ever further into the depths of the bazaar. “Did we really have to scare Caetux like that?” Masumi asked, tossing a marshmallow up in the air. Constanz snapped it up in her jaws, licking her lips and hissing happily.

“He wouldn't have stopped worrying if we didn't find something to keep him busy!”

“He wouldn't have stopped worrying if we didn't find something to keep him busy!”

Pepper Mint and Winter Mint sighed in unison and Clawssie agreed.

“Besides! We're almost there and we'll have Klickshe's cuff fixed in _no time_!”

Klickshe looked down at the cuff in her hands. If she had just been more _careful_... Why was she always such a mess-up with important things?

The kids reached an open tent. Clawssie's ears twitched at the sound of needle and thread rapidly moving through cloth. “There it is!”

The kids rushed in and saw a deluge of chimes and beads strung up from the ceiling and suspending around in swaying curtains.

Besame tucked his wings underneath each other and watched his reflection in the chimes.

Clawssie rushed forward. The others slowly followed her to a simple crafting table. Eight arms rapidly worked at a length of lace that held the incandescent shine of the stars. Several tigers lazed around her seat. One of them lifted their head and gave a warning growl towards the children.

“Grr..! Right back at you, pal!” Clawssie barked back, Blitzelle walking over.

“Uh, _maybe_ don't make the giant predator angry?” He whispered.

Masumi agreed. The poor bunny's heart was beating faster than a rich human evading taxes.

The hands stopped to fold the lace up. “You are all far from your teacher.” The seamstress lifted her head and stood up tall to reveal the beautiful face of the goddess Parvati; the embodiment of all things fair and familial for the Hindi-inclined. “What brings you all here to my private chamber?”

Clawssie tugged Klickshe over and shoved her in front. “Go on! Go on, go on, go on!!”

Klickshe kept her eyes on the tigers standing to their paws. Their eyes narrowed at the sight of the children. “I...” Her tail curled over her feet, “I wanted to ask if you could... Could... Fix this?” She set her ankle cuff on the table and quickly stepped away.

Parvati glanced at the cuff. She quickly turned away. “You can't just come to someone, while they are on vacation, and ask them to take their precious time away to mend your mistakes, little one.”

“But..!” Klickshe attempted to protest. No, they had come all this _way_!

“Hey!”

That was Clawssie who shoved Klickshe aside to point and bark. “We came all this way because we need help! I have moneys!” Clawssie dug into her pockets and pulled out a bunch of bills. “Come on!”

“Money is not the end all-be all of the world, young ones.” Parvati shook her head. “You should leave now. Before things get...”

The tigers stood up, growling and stalking towards the children. Their mistress had been disrupted from her needles and fabrics for _far_ too long.

Heidi pushed Constanz and Beatrisa behind herself, the fires in her eyes flaring up. Pepper Mint and Winter Mint held one another, legs shaking. And Blitzelle was ready to bolt, fight-or-flight steaming in his blood.

The largest tiger lunged: teeth sharp and thirsty for the action of snuffing out a life. Parvati averted her eyes, not wanting to see the bloodbath.

So awful. To see the waste of so many young lives.

The tiger's jaws locked around polished white wood. Yet the wood didn't splinter or yield. The tiger had to remove themselves from the unyielding force, pitifully murring up at Parvati. The wood spun in someone's hand. Upon further focus, it was actually the body of a certain guitar.

“Mr. Eirwen?” Beatrisa asked, nudging her glasses upwards.

Eirwen stood there, eyes not leaving Parvati; his grip on Morningstar unyielding.

Parvati looked the human over. She turned and sighed, “You need to keep a better eye on --”

“Tell your tigers to get back.”

Parvati flinched at the cold words. Like ice they were. And when she looked at the human's eyes –

“Leave!” Parvati hissed, all warmth pulling out of the small tent; the colors and shine dimming.

Eirwen turned around. “We're going back to Fae Rock.” He told the kids. Most followed, though Clawssie jumped at him.

“Clawssie, no!” Klickshe begged the wolf-girl. But Clawssie already made it over and was insisting and shouting and whining.

“We can't leave yet! We need to find someone to fix Klickshe's ankle-cuff!”

“Clawssie...” Eirwen begged in a quiet voice.

“You can convince Parvati to do it!” Clawssie continued, tugging on Eirwen's arm. “Come on, turn around!”

~~“Clawssie. Stop.”~~ Juke warned her.

“Mr. Eirwen~!!”

Eirwen snapped his head towards the girl. All semblances of color seeped out of his hair, leaving the strands as icy as his eyes and words. “Clawssie! Stop being a brat and listen for once in your miserable little life! We are going _NOW!!_ ”

All too late he realized what he had done, and even then only because of several pairs of wide eyes looking upon him in terror.

'Wait...'

 

'No.'

 

'Stop...'

He couldn't relax the tenseness of his frame. He left the tent, body moving on autopilot.

He didn't see Clawssie begin to shake. Couldn't see her nose begin to run or her bottom lip quivering in her sharp little teeth. He did hear when the little wolf-girl began to bawl.

~~“Why did you have to do that?”~~

"I wanna go home..!"

“I've never seen him so mad...”

“I've never seen him so mad...”

“Clawssie, come on. It's okay, I'll just tell my uncles what happened... It's okay...”

Damn it...

_Why?_

* * *

 

Zach had managed to round up all of his tenants, everyone _eventually_ agreeing to try a nearby bistro for food before going back home.

“Did you all get what you needed?” Zach tore into some momo dumplings.

“I'm stocked up on cereal for the next six months.” Mira sipped at his soda, pulling off with a loud 'pop'. “No thanks to _this_ pencil-dick.”

“Shut the fuck up, you shitty suitcase.”

“ _I_ ,” Silveste held a hoof to his chest, “Managed to find and collect enough proper ingredients and insight to perform an attempt at crafting my own follicle cleanse!”

They all conversed a little, though in the case of Odysseus, Mira, and Fane, the conversations were more biting words), and enjoyed their orders.

“Oh, Zach!”

Zach looked up to see Rory, the remnants of an embarrassed blush leaving his features. “Hey. If I knew you were going to be here today--”

'You wouldn't have gotten your bed rocked in an alley by a tall, dark, member of the SCP family.'

“-- I would have called you. Here, have a seat.”

Rory nodded and grabbed a seat from an empty table nearby; sliding it next to the group's table.

“Nephubos, Fane, Gahiji, Prince Silveste, Suraj, and Odysseus! It's been a while, how have you all been?”

More food was offered and gentle discussion resumed as the chorus of hissing housewives and braying suburbanites dotted the background.

“A lapis lazuli wheel?” Gahiji asked, already knowing what Rory was searching for.

“You treat your employees pretty well.” Suraj commented. But Rory was quick to shake his head with a chuckle,

“She's more like family. I couldn't very well... well...”

Rory leaned over to see a certain face followed by a dozen smaller forms. Like sad, sad ducklings they were.

“Is that Eirwen?” Rory pushed his food towards the center of the table for whoever wanted it and walked over to his friend.

Who was looking a bit shaken.

“E-Eirwen?”

Zach walked over, asking, “What's going on, Eir--”

Several thumps hit his leg. He looked down to see Heidi, Beatrisa, and Constanz hiding behind him.

“Rory...” Eirwen whispered. Rory was still, letting Eirwen lift his hands up. They crept up his arms, blind and searching, and landed upon his shoulders. “Rory.” Eirwen lifted his head up but couldn't bear to open his eyes, even as tears fell down his face. “I messed up.”

“Oh Eirwen, no.” Rory wiped several tears away with the tips of his fingers. “Whatever it is, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

Tug. Tug.

Rory looked down to see a little creature covered by a sheet tugging at his pant leg. “What's that?” He knelt down and offered his ear.

He let the curling whispers wind deep into the passages of comprehension.

“...Hm, I see...” Rory nodded and hummed. He stood back up and then he gently knocked a fist into his open palm. “Right then. We'll just have to get that cuff fixed then. I should have...” Rory rummaged through his shopping bag for a small emergency sewing kit. “There we are. Eirwen, could I please have a hair?”

“A-a hair? _My_ hair?” Eirwen's eyes flitted to an fro. “Are... are you sure you want one of mine?”

Rory nodded. “Yes, your hair would be just the right fit.”

As Eirwen found one of his longer strands and plucked it out, Rory sifted through the available needles. He found the one he needed and asked Zach, “Could you thread this for me?”

“Mm.”

“Now then,” Rory sat down on the ground so he could be at the same level as all of the children (save for Caetux), “How about a story while I work?”

“A story?” Heidi asked, stepping out from behind Zach, “ _Here?_ Now?”

“Of course!” Rory smiled, “Stories always make sewing go by faster.”

There was something in that smile. Something warm. Something humble. It got all of the kids scootching in closer, even Caetux shook the ground as he sat down nearby.

“Here.” Zach offered the threaded needle which Rory happily took.

Rory brought the pieces of the ankle-cuff together and pressed the needle in.

 


	52. The House of Many Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the Shooting Star Bazaar blowout. But, first, a story.

_A long time ago, the colors of the sky lived together in one giant house. They were all the best of friends, even though they came from all over the world and were raised differently._

_They all helped each other and followed duties set out by the oldest of them. As stuffy as they seemed, the rules helped keep everything in order. The oldest color, the shimmering, crystal light of the stars, made sure to warn the others, every day, of three rules. The most important rules of the giant house. In the giant house, all the colors each had their own glass that was to be used by them and only by them. 'Let no one else usurp your glass. It is yours and yours alone.' In the giant house, there was one certain glass, though, that stood all alone. 'Do not fill that glass with any water, juice, or otherwise. No matter fire, no matter rain, no matter snow, no matter Pain.'_

_The final rule was this: 'If you, by any means, break that first rule, then you are to come to me immediately and reveal your shortcoming to me, your friends, and the world. We will then work together to fix things back to the way they were.'_

_So time came in the door and time went out the door. The colors of the world laughed and played and explored the world below and the skies that were their home._

_One day, however, things would change._

_One day, the newest color to come to the house, the rich, dusky violet of sunsets and ripening plums, asked the most esteemed color in the house: the strong yet delicate, noble but proud color of a new dawn about the true knowledge of their purpose. Blossom told violet the answers they themselves would have been satisfied with, but in the end violet wasn't._

_Blossom warned their beloved friend that they shouldn't go in aims not meant for them, so violet did leave it for a while._

_That was, of course, until curiosity and the strive to be a better friend filled violet. They left the giant house to find their own answers. As they traveled, violet came upon a dark world. A sad world. A world that had been lost to colors and lights for a long, long time. They had only known the giant house, the skies, and the world around it full of beautiful flowers. This other world was cold. It was quiet. Yet menacing all the while._

_Just when violet was getting so scared that they wanted to give up, a voice said 'It has been so long since I've had company. Come, I will give you a gift in the form of the answers you seek.'_

_Violet turned to see something they had never seen before. It was a great creature, an entity that was so dark it held no color. No. That wasn't it. It was as if it held fragments of all colors but sucked the essence away from each of them._

_Darkness. Pitch. Black. Darkness._

_'Wh-who are you?' Violet asked, though their form was screaming at them to flee._

_The darkness drooped forward. It smiled a sad smile and then they said... What do you all think they said?_

_'I am something foreign and forgotten by your kind starlights.' Said the darkness. 'I am the darkness of being. I am Pain. I am Agony. I am Silence.'_

_Violet wanted to run, they did start. But Pain told them something, something that had them hungry for more. Curiosity is a powerful thing._

_Violet and Pain walked through the darkness of the world for hours, for days, for months, and Pain spoke all the while. Pain told Violet all they wanted to hear and more through the sweetest, kindest words. By the time Violet felt that they knew what they needed, the two of them had made it back to the giant house. 'My dearest companion,' Pain said, 'I have seen you home safe. I have gifted you all the best information I have. I haven't asked for anything, but if your heart could bear a slight more softness, could I have a small drink before I leave to my own?'_

_Violet felt awful. Pain had done so, so much for them but they couldn't break the rules! So they said, 'Kindest friend. My gratitude for your gifts and fair heart know no bounds. But there is nothing in this house that I can offer you a drink in.'_

_Pain looked to the doors. Pain looked to Violet._

_'Surely one of your fellow colors isn't using their glass right now.' Pain offered._

_Violet looked to the giant house and thought. They thought, thought, thought. Maybe they could... Perhaps just this..._

_Violet shook their head. 'I'm sorry. But their glasses are theirs and theirs alone.'_

_Pain looked to the doors. Pain looked to Violet._

_'Surely there is one glass. One simple, lonesome glass that you could use? Just a quick drink and I'll be on my way.'_

_Violet thought and thought. They remembered that one glass. The glass that stood all alone, untouched by all._

_'There is... one glass.' Violet said._

_'Then how about that one?' Pain asked._

_'I can not!' Violet insisted, 'We are not to fill that glass with any water, juice, or otherwise!'_

_Pain circled Violet like the... water leaving a bathtub and taking something precious with it._

_'No water?'_

_'No!'_

_'No juice?'_

_'No.'_

_'Nothing otherwise?'_

_Violet said, once more, 'Or otherwise.'_

_Pain looked No matter fire, no matter rain, no matter snow, no matter Pain._

_Pain looked to the doors. Pain looked to Violet._

 
    
    
      _N 
    a h o 
    a n a?_
    

 

_'You truly can not aid me in this small favor?' Pain begged in a whisper, 'I thought you were my friend. I thought, with all that I did...'_

 
    
    
     _M a s i_  
    
    aka  
    
    be  
    
    tokoa 	ny kintana...

 

_Pain looked to the doors. Pain looked to violet._

_'No matter fire?'_

_'No matter fire.'_

_'No matter... rain?'_

_'No matter rain.'_

_'No matter snow?'_

_'No matter snow.'_

_'No matter Pain?'_

_'… No matter Pain.'_

_No sooner had Violet replied did Pain fall to the ground. Violet rushed over to their friend. Their heart was so heavy at the vision of their close friend in such agony. This wasn't right. But... No, this wasn't right!_

_Violet rushed into the giant house. No one was around when they took the glass. That one._

_Glass._

_They filled it with water and rushed to offer it to Pain..._

_Pain graciously, gratefully took the glass and drank the water down. It did wonders: so sweet, so lovely, so refreshing._

_'My dearest friend,' said Violet, 'I am truly sorry for my hesitance. Surely you feel better now?'_

_Pain stood to their feet and looked down at the glass in their hands. They drink the last few drops._

_'Tell me,' Pain began, 'Have the stars told you... About the reasons for those rules?'_

_Violet was... confused. But perhaps this was an exchange of knowledge for new knowledge. 'Nay, they tell all of us colors that they are never to be broken. That they keep things in order. But no more than that.'_

_Pain lifted the glass into the darkening sky. 'So the stars... Didn't even tell you?'_

 
    
    
     _M a s i_  
    
    aka  
    
    be  
    
    tokoa 	ny kintana...

_'My dear friend,' Violet started, fear trying to grow in their voice, 'Are you alright? Come now, your journey surely awaits you.'_

_It was then that the skies grew stained with a thousand branches of darkness. Pain bore their woesome fangs at the glass and hissed, 'Those bastard stars never even told you what they did?!'_

_And, like that, they hurled the glass to the ground: shattering it into twelve and thirty pieces. Violet braced themselves as a spiral of wind fell upon the area. It tore trees right out of the ground, hurling them up into the screaming, thundering skies._

_And Pain's furious gaze was focused on the giant house._

_'I needed your help.' Pain stepped forward. 'I begged you for help. And you did this to me. It ends... NOW!'_

_'Pain, please stop!' Violet shouted. But their voice was covered, smothered by the storm. Pain charged forward and, as if it were made of paper... destroyed the giant house._

_The other colors flooded out of the house in a panic, all surrounding the crystal shine of the stars who looked upon Violet and the berserk rage of Pain._

_'You've doomed us all!' The stars shrieked out, 'Damned fool, you've doomed us a--'_

_They didn't get to finish. Pain fell upon all of the colors. They tore into their screaming, horrified forms and slaughtered them. Sending their remnants to the wind._

_Until, of course, only Violet was left._

_'Why?' Violet begged, tears in their eyes and a waver in their voice, 'I've done nothing but be your friend, travel with you, share my kindness! Why have you done such a thing?! I thought you were my friend!!'_

_Pain walked back to Violet, their darkened form splattered in the hues of the fallen colors._

_'You are my friend.' said Pain. 'And it is for that reason why I spare you my kiss.'_

_And, as that, violet fell down dead; their hues seeping into the earth. Some of the color clung fast to the stones nearby, creating breathtaking amethysts and iolites._

_But the colors, as they were, were no more._

_Pain watched the storms overtake the world, spreading their breath and their humors over the hills, the rivers, the cascades._

_Pain was able to overtake this miserable world... Just because one could not follow the rules._

* * *

 

 

Rory went quiet after that. The kids all waited but eventually, Besame said, “I guess... following what your elders tell you is really important, huh?”

Rory nodded. “As you all grow up, you'll come across times where you may think you know better than those who care for you. I understand, some of you may want to help your friends or may think you can handle things on your own, but... Rules are meant to keep you safe. Please, remember that. Eirwen wasn't mad at you for trying to help, he was mad that you almost got hurt.”

Eirwen walked over. Damn it, he hated how his hair looked right now, but he had to make sure that the kids new he didn't hate them.

“Clawssie...” He knelt down to the wolf-girl's height, “I'm so, _so_ sorry for yelling at you.”

Clawssie pouted and held her hands in one another. Finally she nodded, “It's okay, Mr. Eirwen. I'm sorry too.”

Rory giggled. Thank goodness that he'd been in the right place at the right time. It didn't hurt that he'd been able to do one of his favorite things: telling stories to young, hungry minds. “But, for now...”

He lifted the work in his bloodied hands. Klickshe gasped and rushed over. “You fixed it!!”

“Of course.” Rory helped the little kobold get the repaired cuff back onto her ankle. He wasn't expecting the tight, joyous hug to his side afterward. “Thank you, _thank you_!”

“You're _very_ welcome.” Rory sent Klickshe back to her friends. He turned and saw Zach looking at him with those dead eyes. “Thanks for your help, Zach.”

“You're hurt.”

Rory winced but looked down at his hands. His fingertips were inflamed and covered in beads of blood from mispricks. “It's nothing. That leather required a bit more force than I'm...”

He felt something hot and wet on his fingers. Rory gasped, his heart pounding against the grate of his chest, and his eyes going as wide as his glasses would allow.

Zach licked the few cascading droplets before closing his lips around the most damaged digits. Every gentle suck, meant to remove the dried blood, made Rory flush deeper; made the throbbing between his legs stronger. Zach finally removed those full lips from Rory's now-clean fingers. “Those should start healing soon.”

“Thank you! I should get going!” Rory pulled his hand away and bolted away as fast as he could manage. Zach watched him go, unsure of what sent him off on that panic.

“God! Can't you go be all gay and homo somewhere else?!” Odysseus bellowed out from the table. He received a boot to the head for his efforts.

***

Zach had one more store to stop by before the bazaar closed up for the night. Hell, for the next few months considering how much money surely had to flow through the line of commerce today.

He stepped into a simple shop, a quiet shop. _“Hello, young man.”_ The air spirit minding the store greeted them. _“My thanks for your stopping by. Please, check my wares.”_

Zach nodded and walked to the back of the store where and entire array of effigies, idols, statuettes, and oil lanterns were displayed. And while there were some of Buddha, the virgin Mary, Amaterasu, the majority of them were of Dama Fristad's guardians.

“Is there anything in particular that you seek?”

Zach looked over the selection once more. “I need a new Trillium the Fair,” Zach explained, picking up the small azurite effigy of ShimmerGale's guardian, “Mine keeps breaking.”

***

There went Tsukuyomi, bringing the night sky much to Ra's disdain.

Some people thought the two of them should date. The absolute madlads.

Humans and nonhumans were making their way home, sending things off with delivery services, still trying to force employees to cater to their entitled orders.

And Rory was slowly filling with shame and guilt.

Shame for the awful feelinsg he was feeling towards Zach.

Guilt for still not having Ela's replacement wheel. “How could I have gotten so distracted?” Rory leaned against a light pole. He watched a duo of will o' wisps exchange spots, the glass gaining a warm, blue glow. “Ela was depending on me and I let her down.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why was he so stupid?

“Ah! My fair young friend!”

Rory looked up. It was the tortoise from before. He slowly (emphasis on the slow) plodded over to Rory and chuckled, “Glad to see you! Hope you got everything that you needed to get done, well, done!”

Rory smiled. It wavered. “Well. I'm afraid not.”

“Oh?” Asked the beast-folk, “What's troubling you?”

Rory held a breath until his throat burned with it. Exhale. “I got so distracted by helping others and my own twister of complications that I forgot to get the _one_ thing I came here for! I'm such...” He shook his head and held his forehead in his palm. “I'm such a bad friend.”

“Nonsense!” The tortoise reached into one of his bags. “Where was it... Anyway, no one with a heart as big as yours – it was _just_ in here, come on – can be a 'bad friend'. Woo, such a silly thought!”

Rory let the tortoise talk, not having the nerve to brush away the sentimental words with the truth. How was he going to break this to Ela?

The tortoise upended his bag, sending an array of knickknacks and parcels to the ground. “Oops! Well, guess I should have seen that coming. Down we go...”

Rory was quick to kneel down. “Here, let me.” He gathered as much into his arms on the first go and lowered them back into the bag. A few odd ends here. Oh, that looked fragile. Thankfully the cloth wrap around it held up.

He lifted something the size of his palm that had some weight to it. It was carefully hidden inside of a wooden box.

“Ah, there it is!” The tortoise hummed. “I'd like you to open that one. For you.”

“For me?” Rory asked, shaking his head, “Sir, I – You didn't have to get me anything, I wouldn't want you to waste your money.”

The tortoise waved off the concern. “Oh, don't give me the modesty act, you're too pretty for it. Besides, when you're as old as me, you have plenty of money to go around. Now, get on with it!”

Rory still felt bad, but he did as he was asked. The box opened, the dim street light bouncing off of the rich navy and dancing along the shimmering golden veins of a lapis lazuli wheel.

“I can't believe...” He covered his mouth, eyes unable to look away from the very thing he had needed.

The tortoise looked into his bag and shrugged. “Picked it up during my shopping soiree! I figured... that _you_ would get more use from it.”

“Thank you.” Rory stepped over and offered a grateful handshake but the tortoise pulled him into a strong, one-armed hug.

“Keep that grace about you, fair one.” The tortoise said before starting to walk off. He was across the road when he added, “It'll help you soar.”

***

The skies above Dama Fristad were a deep velvet sheet that ranged from cool violet to soft black.

Black.

Black.

Thick, inky black.

It smelled of rotten squid.

It stained his finger tips.

“Come on!”

Two handfuls of the stuff lifted into the air. They were smacked down into snowy, white locks and scrubbed over and under the hair's surface.

“Come on, come on..!” Eirwen pleaded. He begged the dye to take. This was the strongest one he could find without going down to Miasmus. And it was too late to risk the trip: the kids were already asleep and the gates to Fae Rock were locked. “ _Please!!_ ”

***

Rory did a once-over of Pecan Pavilion once he had gotten Ela fitted with her new wheel. The mice and the birds in the store had a mini-celebration once the ladder was back to standing and Rory happily joined them for a while. It wasn't until he started yawning to the point of not being able to hide it that Ela insisted on him closing up the shop and heading to bed.

Thus he did. Locking the door to his house behind him, Rory turned on the TV and flipped it to a music station. The twang and vibrato of a shamisen dripped out into his main room. They danced together, in jagged motions and lifting steps, through the air of the living space.

One day, when things with Pecan Pavilion were balanced out and he had the slightest bit more freedom, Rory really wanted to visit Akatsuki.

Well.

To be honest.

He wanted to visit quite a few places, but Akatsuki was the one that really stirred a hunger deep inside of him. The ancient rites that meshed beautifully with the growing technology and integration of pop culture.

But, for now, Rory satiated his curiosity with his books. Books and the occasional odd bit. Like the Renew Bomb he had bought during Pride Fest.

He ached a little from that day's excursions, so he tossed on a robe, ran himself a long, hot bath and tempered it with a bowl of cold.

Rory stirred his fingers through the tub, nodding when it was just right. The robe fell with a soft 'whump', leaving Rory naked aside from his glasses and the nasty scar on his back.

“Mm.” Rory lowered himself into the bathtub. “Almost... there we are.” He had to bite through the initial heat but soon he was nice and comfy. He opened the box that had the Renew Bomb in it. Holdng the sakura-filled jelly, he read through the directions twice. “'Run a bath that's more hot than cold and submerge yourself. When comfortable, take the Renew Bomb under the water and crush it between your hands until you feel a 'pop'. Lay back, relax, and enjoy'.”

Rory pulled the Renew Bomb under the warm waters and squeezed until he felt that 'pop' in his hands. Immediately, sakura blossoms surrounded by bubbles began to lift and boil upon the water's surface: filling the bathroom with the delicate, full aroma of a cherry blossom field in the Spring.

The warm waters scented with the essences of the Renew Bomb lapped around him, relaxing his muscles and lulling his nerves into a state of balance. He could fall asleep like this... The store was closed, he was alone to his own devices. Everything existed on a soft, yielding plane of sakura-scented warmth.

It was like it held a physical form that was rubbing him down, massaging and squeezing the tense spots into oblivion. Rough, strong hands.

Rory lifted heavy lids from his eyes to see... “Zach?” He blinked, “What are...” He looked down and up, the magic of the warm haze beginning to fade when he saw that Zach was naked as the day he was born. “Wait! What are you doing here? Did you... need help with something? Just let me get dressed and...”

He could _just_ hear the excited voice of a young woman reciting what she was scribbling down into a journal. “'The two let their eyes meet, Rory drinking in the sight of the man who has everything he's looking for in a lover: strong, tall, handsome, and half-Japanese!'”

The air grew sweet and Rory struggled to pull himself out of the tub before this vision of Zach could pin him down. “Wait, stop!”

“Hm?” The young woman's voice questioned, “Come on, you know you want to. Just enjoy! _Everyone_ does~!”

No, no! This was wrong! He couldn't have these thoughts about one of his best friends!

He groaned out when the vision licked along the seam of his lips, pressing their lips together. No... He couldn't! Even with the way that his dick was able to rub against those stony ab muscles, this was _wrong!_

He couldn't have a wet-dream about Zach!

But the goddess in charge didn't pay any mind to Rory's struggle. After all, Aphrodite knew best when it came to the wants and lusts of mankind. Rory just needed to let himself go to the illusion.

Rory had to fight this! He tried moving away to dislodge the illusion. His body was too heavy. Today's stresses and bazaar walks mixing with the heat and pleasure of the tub to make a deadly poison of relaxed lust.

“'Then,'” Aphrodite wrote, “'Zach teases Rory's chest --'”

Rory let out a sharp cry at the sharp pinch and slow rubbing of his nipples and his chest.

“'Stoking the burning fires of want ever stronger in both of them. But there's something even _more_ delectable waiting for them.'”

Rory shook his head once more, one more plea to stop this. The illusion slides their mouths together once more, Rory moaning out despite himself. This time, Zach's hand wasn't idle. It lowered down between Rory's legs and fluttered two fingers over his erection.

Without breaking the kiss, he took the length in hand and started stroking: rubbing his thumb into the sensitive head every other motion.

“Stop!” Rory snapped his head to the side and freed himself, panting from the effort.

“ _Rory.”_ The apparition muttered in that low, even voice. _“I want you.”_

“No you don't!” Rory insisted, still not trying to succumb even though, in the physical world outside of Aphrodite's influence, his body gently tossed and turned; his hands working feverishly at his heated flesh.

Damn it, why...

* * *

 

.. why, damn it?

 

Eirwen had been scrubbing for three hours before he finally noted his hair keeping the darkened tint.

“Shit.” He collapsed against the glass of the shower wall. Excess dye ran down his hands and slithered down the drain. “Is... is this worth it?” His words lifted up with the steam and into the vent. “I just want to live. Is that so bad? Why?”

* * *

 

Rory couldn't stop the sick roll in his stomach as he looked down at his hand. The water had cooled. The sweet scents were all but gone. His skin was lukewarm, clammy.

Damn Aphrodite and 'hobby' of forcing those sorts of dreams onto people.

… No. He couldn't put all the blame on her.

Was he really so desperate? So pathetic and lonely that he was lusting after his friend like this? Zach deserved so much better! Better than the fool scrubbing cold semen from his hand.

“Why am I like this?”

 

 

_**Why am I so fucked up?** _

 

 


End file.
